


Darkness is your candle

by themoonowl



Series: A Real Hero [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Arguing, Break Up, Coffee, Colonist (Mass Effect), Engineers, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Martial Arts, Mass Effect 1, Meet-Cute, Military, Mindoir, Moving On, N7 (Mass Effect), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Mass Effect 1, SSV Normandy, Therapy, University, War Hero (Mass Effect), some spicy moments sprinkled throughout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonowl/pseuds/themoonowl
Summary: Before Samed became "Commander Shepard, war hero of Elysium," he was just a young man studying Electrical Engineering at a university in Toulouse, trying to have a normal life while dealing with the shadows from his past.A light sub-series of short-ish snippets detailing the good, the bad, and the very romantic moments of Samed's life right up to the first game.
Relationships: Male Shepard & David Anderson, Male Shepard & Original Character(s), Male Shepard/Original Male Character(s)
Series: A Real Hero [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429021
Comments: 160
Kudos: 10





	1. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meet-cute in the campus library.

**November, 2172**

Olivier's gaze kept drifting to this quiet lad that sat by the window of the library, who kept pushing his glasses up, focused on that datapad he held in his hand.

A curious sight he was. Oli had seen him during Probabilities and Basics of Algorithms, but he never talked. Always taking notes, him.

An idea flashed before Oli's eyes. He walked up, pulled the chair next to him and sat down. It was nice how the lad smelled of roasted chestnuts in winter. It was not nice how he did not even register his presence.

"Hello," Oli said and the lad turned, those eyes like melted chocolate met his and Oli's heart skipped a beat. "My name is Olivier."

"Oh, um. Samed."

Oli smiled at the name, at him, to which the lad raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Your name is Samed. Like samedi? It means Saturday in French."

The lad—Samed, Samedi—turned those beautiful eyes back to his datapad, but his full lips curved, so all was not lost.

"I am very sorry to intrude, but I am having some trouble with Probabilities," he continued, and Samedi met his gaze again and pushed his glasses up. "Could you help me?"

"Um, sure. But I only got seventy-two on the last exam. I don't know how helpful I'll be."

"Ha! That is perfect! I have sixty-seven!"

It was then Samedi smiled again, a full smile, a small laugh, that warmed Oli's chest, his soul, on that cold November day.


	2. A cool Valentine's night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for PTSD, intrusive thoughts, and flashbacks around the half point. Nothing _too_ serious I hope, but still.

**February, 2173**

Samed's datapad was the only faint light in the dorm room since Louis was asleep. That and the glowing digital clock on the wall that showed 01:01.

Samed smiled to himself in the darkness. If Olly were here, he'd say, _"That means someone is thinking of you at this moment, Samedi,"_ with that bright dimpled smile of his. But this wasn’t the time for daydreaming. Samed pulled his attention back to the absolute bore that was Numerical Analysis and Statistics.

Last semester was crappy. He'd barely managed to score a measly eighty points in Integration and Probabilities, ruining his otherwise near-perfect streak of ninety plus points on everything else. At least that full one hundred he got in Basics in Circuits evened things out a little bit.

Now the wretched numbers and formulas stood before him, and it was like he read in a language he didn't understand. He'd managed straight fives at math, all throughout highschool _and_ elementary. So why were these two classes so damn difficult? His head felt like it was filled with a thick fog. This was bullshit.

His omni buzzed with a message from Olly.

> _You need a break from statistics. Meet me on the roof?_

A break could do him good, maybe clear his head. Hanging out with Olly was always fun—and he definitely needed some fun right about now.

He put on some warm clothes—apparently Toulouse had _winters—_ and his thick dark-green bomber jacket and headed up.

Olly sauntered about on the roof—Samed could recognize that dark-blue plaid jacket and violet beanie anywhere—and there was a spark in Samed's chest, a small bout of static that passed through him at the sight.

Olly turned around and flashed him one of his bright white smiles, the lights from the campus below giving his bronze brown face a yellowish glow.

Heat rose up to Samed's cheeks—a welcome thing in this cold—he smiled back and managed a flustered, "Hey."

"Hey." Olly's lips curved into a smirk. "Were you having fun with _Statistiques?"_ He raised a playful brow.

Samed groaned and rolled his eyes as Olly started to laugh in that soft kind of voice of his.

They sat on one of the many blocks of concrete overlooking the campus. Olly's rosey smell filled the air—a fragrance of comfort in the absolute hell that was the January exam season—and Samed breathed out a foggy sigh.

"The maths here are kicking my ass. If I don't get Statistics to at least ninety, I may lose my scholarship next year." The fog in Samed's head dispersed, if just a little. Talking with Olly always did that—but that was always replaced by that spark in his chest, that flutter in his stomach. Something he hadn't felt since—since he was in his second year of highschool, and he had a crush on that tall senior that played basketball with them sometimes, Jake.

Oh.

_Oh._

The circuits connected in his brain.

"You worry too much, Samedi. You are smart. The smartest lad I know." Olly put his head on his shoulder, and like it moved on its own, Samed's arm wrapped around Olly's waist. That spark in his chest moved lower to his stomach, continuing down, his head filling up with a different type of fog. "I know you will, 'kick its ass,' as you say."

Samed laughed and leaned his head onto Olly's. The two of them sat alone in the cold February night, with only the empty campus patrolled by the occasional guard below them.

Moments passed, or perhaps minutes before Olly broke the silence with, "I know you do not celebrate this in your religion, but." Olly lifted his head and turned to him, a twinkle in his emerald eyes. "It is past midnight—technically it is Valentine's day."

"Oh," was the only thing Samed could say, that spark bouncing wildly within him.

Olly's soft voice turned low and husky. "That is why I called you here, Samedi."

Olly put a gloved hand on Samed’s face. Then another, gently brushing cheekbones that held heat underneath, and that spark in Samed's stomach lit up into a small flame. Olly gently took Samed’s glasses off and folded them. That emerald twinkle in his lidded eyes was the only thing Samed could see clearly before Olly closed the distance between them. Lips danced with lips, then tongues brushed together, a taste of mint and cherries as that flame within him erupted.

_An explosion shakes the ground._

No.

No no no no no, this wasn't happening. Not now.

_The taste of iron, red staining his hands._

No no no, this hadn't happened since he got here.

_A bullet hole in Maama's head, distant screams, the smell of burned flesh—_

Samed pushed Olly away, what used to be pleasant fire in his stomach now turned violent, crushing. It burned like an inferno within him, destroying everything in its way, _screaming, explosions,_ it boomed in his head, _he's in the basement as everyone above suffers, God, when will the Alliance get here? Why can't he move? Why can't he help?_

"Samedi? Samedi!"

Samed blinked. He was sitting with his arms around his knees and shaking, a rosey scent around him, a warmth shielding from the cold. A blurry image of the campus sprawled below—he wasn't in the basement anymore. He wasn't freshly sixteen, he was an adult, almost nineteen, in a university campus in Toulouse. Not on Mi—not home.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice asked, a foggy breath that smelled of cherry and mint filling his senses. It was Olly, Olly hugged him now, Olly, the guy that he—had feelings for. Feelings he hadn't felt since—since he was sixteen. Before _—the smell of burned flesh—_ his body folded in on itself again.

"Samedi?"

Olly didn't know.

Olly didn't know and if Samed was this much of a mess from only one kiss—Samed's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"I grew up on Mindoir," a voice came out of Samed's mouth, but it didn't sound like him. This one was desperate and raspy. And it felt like acid had spilled down his throat when that word came out, that word for home.

"Mindoir? The colony that—" Olly gasped and tightened his grip around Samed. "Samedi, I am so sorry."

Olly was sweet. That spark still bounced within Samed at the sight of him, oh God did it ever, but that beautiful bronze brown face that glowed in the faint light, that sweet guy deserved so much more than a wreck of a human being that breaks down after a simple kiss. Slick, slimy shame crawled on his skin.

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry, Samedi. You have been through a lot. You do not have to apologize for anything."

"I'm sorry that I." Samed swallowed. "I can't do this. I’m sorry. Not now. I'm clearly not—okay." _And you deserve better,_ words that somehow got stuck in Samed's throat, unspoken.

Olly thinned his lips. His eyebrows drifted closer together before he pressed his face, his charming, adorable face into Samed’s shoulder, his whole body trembling.

Acid filled Samed's chest. After three long years he finally found someone he liked, someone he had feelings for—and he blew it. 

It wasn’t fair.

He clenched his teeth and tightened his hands into a grip.

It wasn’t _fucking_ fair.

To him, to Olly, it just wasn't fair, whatever this was. He was broken, a shell of a human being all because of some four-eyed freaks. That anger in him burned, _a bullet hole in Maama's head, bodies wrapped in cloth being set down in the soil,_ it wasn't fair—

"I," Olly's soft voice broke his spiraling thoughts, quelled the anger within him, if just a little. "If you are not ready." Olly straightened. A glassy film coated his eyes, and he swallowed. "I still like you, Samedi. I—”

God, this wasn’t fair. “I like you too,” he managed a raspy whisper before his voice broke into a loud, short sob. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Olly pressed his forehead to his and whispered, “Do not be sorry, _mon ché—mon ami.”_

_Mon ami._

“Let’s—” Samed inhaled a shaking breath. "Stay friends?”

Olly raised his head, his lips in a frown.

“I don’t want to lose you. But—I.” Samed shook his head down.

Olly cupped his face and lifted it so that his eyes met Olly's, those beautiful emerald eyes of his. “You will not lose me.” His voice was low and soothing.

Samed managed a broken half smile.

“If—if that is your wish—then. I accept. We will remain as friends.” Olly inhaled. “For I do not wish to lose you as well—” He swallowed. _“—mon ami.”_

Samed managed a nod before he broke into sobs. Olly pressed his forehead to his and joined him with sad, quiet sighs. 

God, this whole thing wasn't fair.


	3. The less you know the better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olly gets a boyfriend. Samed's reaction to that is... complicated.

**Late September, 2173**

_ Olly runs his fingers through wavy dark hair, pale skin grinding on bronze brown, lips pressed on lips, musk in the air, _ it was like someone punched Samed in the stomach. Like—he exhaled a shiver—like his heart hurt.

It was a cool night on the roof. Where they kissed seven months ago. Where he told Olly he wasn't ready. Where he told him he had too much baggage, where they'd agreed to be just friends. Then, God, why did this hurt so much?

A bitter thought scurried through his brain: _ That should've been me instead of that guy. _

"Samedi?" Olly's soft voice behind him, that nickname again. A nickname that had grown on him, but now it sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard. "I knew I would find you here."

Silence on his part, the campus sprawling under him. What would he say?  _ I thought you were gonna wait for me to get better. I thought—I thought we had something. _

"I am sorry you had to see that, mon ami."

_ Pale skin grinding on bronze brown, lips pressed on lips, lips that tasted of cherry and mint on this very spot on Valentine's day—_Samed clenched his teeth. "I'm sorry too." 

"I arrived here as fast as possible, I—"

"You don't have to say anything, Olly."

"I do, Samedi."

"No. You don't. I said I wasn't ready, remember? We're fine. We're friends."

"You did, but." Olly sighed and sat next to him, still smelling of roses, like he always did, only muskier now _—the smell of musk in the air, of sex—_ it was like a bullet in Samed's chest. He scooted away. "I should have been honest with you. Should have told you I found someone...two months ago." 

Samed's stomach tightened. _ Two months? Only five months, that's how long it took to replace me!? _

"But I did not. I was...scared."

"Scared? Why scared?"

"I do not know!" Olly's voice echoed. "After that kiss, after what I said." He sighed. "We are friends, Samedi, but I must confess. It has been difficult to think of you as just a friend."

_ Then why didn't you wait for me instead of finding someone? _ The words burned on Samed's mind, engulfed his heart in flames, but—he turned to Olly, whose eyes glistened with the lights from below. Whose lips made the cutest pout.

He swallowed those words and wrung an arm around Olly's shoulders, that rosey smell of his filling Samed's senses, and that thread of musk still lingering, a bitter reminder of that scene. A bitter reminder that—Olly wasn't his.

"It's okay," Samed managed to say. It didn't feel right to put all that weight on Olly. "Just. Put something on the door next time, so I'll know not to go in." He turned to him and forced a small smile.

Olly responded with a smile and a sniff, and leaned his head on Samed's shoulder, his thick coils of hair—even thicker than Samed's—brushing on Samed’s neck.

_ God, why am I so stuck? _


	4. Your boundaries are your quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samed tries therapy.

**October–November, 2173**

“Mindoir.”

Acid dripped down Samed’s throat at the counselor’s voice. “Min—” He shut his eyes and shook his head no.

“This is good, Samed. Last week you couldn’t even pronounce the N.”

A month of therapy was exhausting. Mrs. Costa seemed happy with his progress however. It didn’t add up.

His exam scores were improving too—since he wasn’t hanging out with Olly so much anymore, he took to the library more often. He still saw him during class, and they still studied and did lab exercises together, but every time Samed bumped into Olly around campus while he was holding hands with that Dimash guy—God, it turned his stomach inside out.

Who even was this new boyfriend? A guy from Kazakhstan, studying art? Bleh. Samed could draw better—he learned from the best, after all. 

And the best wasn’t here with him, he thought, as he sat alone on the roof one night. Would never see him graduate. There was a hole where his heart was as he gazed up at the cloudy skies.

The cool early November breeze brushed his cheeks, bringing with it a flowery smell—flowers like the ones Maama used to plant in the backyard.

He rushed down to his room and came back with a notebook, a pencil, and some warmer clothes. He opened the last family photo they took together on his omni, and under its light began to draw crooked lines that somehow became less crooked and began to look more and more like them.

He finished the drawing and that gentle breeze brushed his cheeks again. Samed smiled at the sky that had begun to brighten. It somehow filled that hole in his heart, just a bit.

The next day he was in Mrs. Costa's office again, showing her the things he’d drawn that sleepless cold night: Maama painting in their garden back on Mindoir; Baaba fixing one of the neighbor's tractors in the garage, with that chequered black and white headscarf wrapped around his head to keep his hair out of the way and any sweat from dripping down his eyes; Tracy hunched over his guitar, his long coily hair covering almost his entire face except for his mouth.

“Drawing is a good coping mechanism, Samed. However.” She tapped a finger on her datapad. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t help but sense there’s another reason for your sudden interest in art, apart from wanting to feel close again to your loved ones.”

Samed turned his gaze to the floor—almost like a guilty puppy would. He started telling her about Olly and Dimash. About how he opened Olly’s door at the worst of times. About how he felt like _ shit— _ the counselor raised her brows when he said that word—because he wanted Olly to wait for him, even if it wasn’t fair to the guy. How none of this was fair. How pent up he felt ever since that moment.

“Perhaps attending some kind of martial arts class might help? Many of my patients had found martial arts helpful to let go of their bottled up energy in a safe and controlled environment. In fact, this campus is equipped with a dojo for judo and other similar activities.”

Judo? If he had been more physically ready at the attack on Min—back home—he could protect Maama, Baaba, Uncle Farris, Tracy—everyone. There was no question about it. He was starting judo.


	5. The arduous road to strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first judo class.

**November, 2173**

Sensei Amir Baruh looked almost exactly like the poster outside of the dojo. Only, about a head shorter than Samed, but with broad shoulders and a slim waist—those were the only discernible features from his blue robe. That and his bald head that made him look a bit like some kind of shaolin monk.

Samed already felt like a bit of an outsider among the students there, standing barefoot in only a t-shirt and sweatpants while everyone around him wore the same kind of robe as the Sensei, only white. He really should’ve researched this a bit more before going in.

The class began with some jumping jacks followed by stretches and crunches and Samed's muscles felt like they were on fire—the last time he actually worked out was—three years ago. Before that damned attack.

But there was no time to think about all that. No time to spiral. Before he knew it, the Sensei had paired him with another student—another _judoka,_ that's what he called them—and monitored both of them as they did some basic pushes and pulls on the ground. 

Then Samed and four others practiced some basic falls and rolls as people were actually throwing each other on the other side of the dojo—Samed's stomach sank whenever he would occasionally glance in that direction, at the thought of him hitting the ground so... violently.

"That's why these falling exercises are important," Sensei's voice boomed through the room. Samed's gaze instantly bolted to him, and noticed that Sensei was looking straight at him through narrowed eyes. "So you don't hurt yourselves when you get to their level."

Samed quickly nodded and awkwardly bowed, and a small, but still serious smile drew on Sensei's face.

After some breathing exercises at the end, the class was over. Everyone bowed, and Sensei pointed at Samed and motioned for him to follow.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Uh. Samed."

"Ha! Samed? What're the odds." Sensei actually chuckled. It was an odd thing to both see or hear after a whole hour and a half of deadly seriousness. "Had a friend named Samed in school, way, way back in Sarajevo. Where are you from, kid?"

Samed widened his eyes. The most he'd gotten to saying that word for home was just three letters. He swallowed and started, mouth full of stinging acid, "Mind—" His throat closed up. No. Not yet. Then what? Draw a star chart or something?

 _The dining room walls are littered with paintings and photos from where Maama and Baaba were from. Palestinians from,_ “Uh. The Levant Union. Sir.” His voice came out wrong, a bit high pitched, but it had to do.

"Ah, the Levant! The missus has family there. What region? No, wait. Let me guess."

Samed froze, a feeling of _wrong_ gripping his stomach.

"I lied! I’m sorry." Sensei’s brows pressed together, that deadly serious look now back on his face again. "That's where my family was from, but I was born in—on a colony. In the Attican Traverse. A colony that was." Samed swallowed and closed his eyes shut. "Attacked. About three years ago."

He opened his eyes to the Sensei slowly raising a bushy brow. "Colony that was attacked three—Mindoir?"

Samed nodded.

Sensei's whole face turned into a frown, his hazel eyes pointing straight at and through Samed. An odd sensation washed over him, making him both relax and be at unease at the same time. And something more—like an unspoken connection was being established between him and this old man he’d known for barely two hours. It almost reminded him of those looks Maama always gave him whenever something bothered him, like she instantly knew what was up.

Sensei continued, in his same no-nonsense voice, "Kid, you're going to need a _gi_ for this class. That's why I brought you here. How tall are you?"

Samed widened his eyes. People would usually ask further questions. Or maybe express _something._

But Sensei scared the crap out of him—it was best to drop it. At least now, he wouldn't have to say _that word._ "Um. 187 centimetres, sir."

Sensei opened a large drawer and started to sift through it. "You're skinny, kid. You're going to need to put on some muscle if you want to really utilize judo."

Samed nodded.

"And to protect people." Sensei got up and handed him a crumply plastic packaging containing a folded white cloth inside. Sensei's eyes pointed straight at him and through him again. "That's why you're here for, right? Try this on for size."

"Uhhh, how—"

"Lot of stories like yours around the galaxy, kid. Especially after Shanxi. Not all of those end happily. Or peacefully. Now put on the gi I gave you."

Samed quickly nodded and opened the packaging, the strong smell of bleach coming from inside making his nose itch. He put both parts of the gi over his sweatpants and t-shirt and tied the orange belt that came with it around his waist.

Sensei nodded. "Good. It's a bit loose now—and it should be—but I expect you to bulk up. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Samed straightened, almost soldier-like.

"At eas—" He shook his head. "Good. We train every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Same time. Same place. Some holidays we take the day off, you’ll get an email with the details. Normally it's the usual ones, but we make exceptions here and there. You know how it is."

Samed nodded, placed the gi back in its package and started to walk out. He took one last look at Sensei—the wrinkles on his face forming that deadly serious expression again—and said, "Thank you, sir."

"You can thank me when you kick ass, kid." There was a small, but somehow genuine smile tugging on the edges of his mouth as he said that.

Samed smiled back and nodded, which apparently became a common thing for him to respond with, whenever Sensei spoke.

The journey back to his dorm room was filled with rumbling from his stomach, which he remedied by almost emptying the entire fridge when he got inside. He hadn’t had an appetite like that since—well—he was too tired for memories of home now.

After a quick wash up, he pressed his face into the pillow and fell asleep almost instantly, well aware that he'd wake up the next morning with his entire body in pain.


	6. Your shadow more than keeps up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big CW for a lot of things to do with bad mental health. Seriously. This chapter is not gonna be a good time.

**April, 2174**

Samed had been feeling _off_ the entire day.

_“Hide in the basement, ‘albi!”_

He shook that thought away and opened the door to his room. Louis wasn’t there. Good.

He put down his backpack, took off his shirt and _—a gravestone that says: Tracy Smith, 2153 - 2170._ He shook his head again, and got under the covers. Looked at the clock—14:31. The perfect time for a long nap. He always took naps on this day. Horrible dreams plagued his mind every time, but at least he wasn’t interacting with the outside world.

He sprung up his omni and set an alarm for 19:00.

If he could skip the whole day he would, but there was no skipping judo. He needed to bulk up, be strong, protect.

* * *

His gi smelling fresh of detergent and softener, an orange belt tied around his waist, Samed bowed as Sensei entered the dojo.

The class started with the usual: jumping jacks, stretches, crunches. Then falls, grapples, holds, breathing exercises. Samed's mind wasn't spiralling during any of that. Good.

He hit the changing rooms, then showers.

Shower done, he put on his sweatpants and t-shirt. A quick look in the mirror and—brown eyes, messy curly hair around his forehead. Wrinkles _—wrinkles?_ Then a mustache above his lips. Samed’s stomach sank, acid dripping down his throat, eyes wide and _—Baaba._ Baaba stared back. Dark shadows clouded his vision, starting from the edges.

_"Hide in the basement, 'albi!"_

No. No no no, he wasn’t spiraling now. He was fine the whole two hours of training. What the hell?

 _Screaming, explosions,_ a wildfire rages in his chest, burning away everything—

_The floor is damp and cold, every scream outside feels like it's drilling a hole in his brain, every explosion shakes the walls. He just sits. Maama is dead._

_Maama is dead! Loud sobs leave his lips, he screams, but he needs to be quiet, Baaba is coming._

_Baaba isn't coming._

_Maybe he should go upstairs? He should go upstairs._

_He can't. His legs don't work. His arms too, stuck around his knees. He is stuck and people outside are either dying or taken prisoner or—acid drips down his throat and into his stomach—or worse._

_He sees a figure open the door, uniform, blue. A scream is stuck in his throat, but then he sees the badge: two curved lines over a planet. Alliance._

_Everything pours out of him._

_"I need a gun, give me a gun, my family is out there!"_

_The figure shushes and hugs him, some kind of words coming from their mouth, 'safe', 'over', they help him up and outside, into the smell of smoke and burned flesh—shaking._

Shaking.

Samed was shaking, no—being shaken, there were hands on his shoulders. Maybe—

"Baaba?"

The man in front of him frowned and shook his head. It wasn't Baaba. Baaba had hair, wild hair like his, big brown eyes, a bushy dark mustache.

His stomach sank. "Sensei?"

"Breathe, son. Can you do that?"

Samed took a breath, barely, and exhaled. And again. And again. Sensei ran off to the bathroom—Samed turned his gaze to his surroundings—a blurry vision of the changing room. Last thing he remembered _—dark curls, wrinkles, a mustache—_ the bathroom mirror. Baaba’s face.

God, if his own reflection was becoming a trigger now—Sensei came back with a bottle of water and curved Samed’s palms around it. "Here. Drink this."

Samed brought the bottle to his lips and drank. The cool liquid quelled a fire, that wildfire that burned whenever—whenever this happened. Samed drank until the bottle was empty again. He wiped his mouth and said, "Thank you, Sensei."

The old man started rummaging through his duffle bag and pulled out what looked like a protein bar. "Here. Eat this."

Without giving it a second thought, Samed tore open the wrapping and took a bite, the soft chocolatey nutty texture filling his mouth. Then another. His stomach started to ache and rumble, and he ate the thing in one breath.

"Have you eaten anything today, kid?"

Samed widened his eyes. He spent the whole day in bed. Woke up only half an hour before judo started. He shook his head no.

Sensei sighed and sat down on the bench opposite him. "My wife forgets to eat during these things too. Hasn't your therapist said something about this?"

"She, uh. She doesn't know yet. Sir." Sensei frowned at him and Samed turned his gaze to the floor. "This happens every year on this day, I forgot to mention that to her."

"This day? The attack on Mindoir happened on—"

"No!" Samed yelled and Sensei scrunched his brows. "Sorry. I don't want to know the date. Don't want there to be two days a year where I feel like shi—feel like crap."

"And what's today?"

"My birthday. Sir."

Sensei sighed and focused his eyes on him, that unspoken connection washing over and through him again.

Samed's stomach rumbled again and Sensei took another bar and tossed it to him. He quietly thanked him and dug in.

Sensei placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know, my wife served on Shanxi. I'll spare you the gruesome details, but she was the only one of her squad to make it out alive. Sometimes those nightmares still haunt her, but it’s miles better than what she used to go through. What you’re going through today, kid.”

Samed swallowed a piece of the chocolate. "So does that mean—will these things I have, um, go away?"

"It depends, son. You wanna get better?"

Samed nodded.

"Good. That’s good. All you need to do now is put in the work. Talk to a professional—you're already doing that. Do some kind of sport—you've got that covered too. Judo's gotten me out of many slumps in my life. Has a way of making you not focus on the bad stuff. Don't know if it's the same with you."

Samed raised his brows. "It is."

"And you've noticed that this day of yours is what the professionals call a trigger. So you know what you're up against. That's all good."

"Then. Will this stop anytime soon?"

Sensei sighed. "Sorry to say kid, but this is only the beginning. You still have a long way to go before you make any progress. The important thing is you're trying. You're not giving up."

Samed turned his gaze to the floor again.

“How do you feel now? These bars usually kick in pretty fast.”

“I—think I'm better.” Samed lifted his head. “Thank you. Sensei.”

A smile drew across Sensei's face. "Don't thank me yet, kid. Thank me when you've passed a kyu." He tapped Samed on the shoulder. "The exam's soon, and you know what to do. Now go on, get some real food. This'll only hold you for a couple of hours."

Samed gave Sensei a barely-there smile back, finished packing his bag and left.

He opened his dorm room’s door to Louis on his omni and headphones. Samed nodded and got a nod back, then proceeded to eat any food of his left standing in the fridge.

After brushing his teeth, he took a reluctant look in the mirror: ringlets of hair that hadn’t been trimmed for two years made a large circle around his face—almost like how Baaba used to carry himself. Thin eyebrows over slightly downturned eyes and wide nose—got those from Maama or else he’d look almost exactly like his old man. It didn’t make him spiral now, the image in the mirror, but—God, he looked like them. Both of them. An uneasiness spread through his stomach, a mix of feelings he couldn’t make sense of. 

Was he happy that he carried a part of their faces, always, even if they’re gone? Was he annoyed how similar-looking he was to them? He shouldn’t be annoyed, they were—not here. Was this disrespectful? He was _their_ son, after all.

Samed sighed. Perhaps he wasn’t spiraling in the worst of ways, but this was a weird and dumb chain of thoughts.

He turned on the faucet when an idea sprung to mind.

He washed his hands, rinsed his mouth, nose, face, arms, then ran a hand over his hair and ears. Washed his feet too. Just like he used to do five times a day back home. He entered the now-dark room, with Louis soundly sleeping. The conditions couldn’t be more perfect.

He sprung up his omni and opened an app he hadn’t opened in four years now. It pointed southeast-ish, towards the window. Back home, it was a new direction every time.

He took one of his towels and spread it down. Then straightened. Took a deep breath, lifted his hands to his ears and, _the taste of iron, the smell of burned flesh._ His stomach convulsed, his body wanted to just fold in on itself, not to be seen, not to be heard, _distant screams above—_

Samed opened his eyes. He was on the floor, with his arms wrapped around his knees. He turned—Louis was still sleeping, quiet snores from his mouth.

Samed got up, put the towel in the wash, and stood in front of the bathroom mirror again, both hands on the sink. He’d usually feel shame right about now, or a sense of displacement, but—nothing. His chest was empty.

The man who stared back, the curly hair, the eyes, the nose, the cheekbones, the lips—it was him. It wasn’t Baaba’s stern stare, it wasn’t Maama’s empathetic eyes.

It was a messed up, empty, broken mess of a human being that kept having the past creep up on him, that kept having nightmares, that couldn’t even pray, that couldn’t even have a normal _fucking_ life, he clenched his palm into a fist and—

_"You still have a long way to go before you make any progress. The important thing is you're trying. You're not giving up."_

—it stopped only a millimetre from the mirror. A scared sixteen year old boy looked back, _his curls long, going down past his shoulders._

_“You’re not giving up.”_

_Getting up every morning is difficult. Only about ten kids are left in his class. Tracy isn’t among them. Homeworks. Tests. Straight fives. They wouldn’t want him to get stuck._

_A haircut. Graduation day. A scholarship offered from the Alliance. They wouldn't want him to get stuck._

_White cloth over the counter, the chairs, the sofa, the TV. All of the cords are unplugged. White cloth over his bed, his nightstand, Tracy’s bass guitar Samed borrowed and barely learned how to play._

_White cloth over everything in the garage and their bedroom, the figurines that Maama kept on the shelves over their bed. Bug repellent in all of the closets. The toxic, long lasting stuff._

_He closes the main door behind him and turns every lock—Baaba’s design. Kept burglars away. Kept the four-eyes away. It’s the reason he is here._

_While they are not._

_He hugs everyone in New Spring before the shuttle takes him away to a new chapter in his life._

_A new chapter without his family._

Samed’s eyes swelled with hot tears. They wouldn’t want him to get stuck. _“The important thing is you’re trying.”_ They wouldn’t want him to get stuck.

He was trying. He wiped his eyes and put on his pajamas.

He was trying. He set the alarm to seven in the morning.

He was trying. He cried himself to sleep.

Horrible dreams.

But he was trying. They wouldn't want him to get stuck.


	7. That word for home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samed is trying.

**May–September, 2174**

_Mind—_

Samed fell on the tatami with a thump, his opponent pinning him down with their elbow. He got up, grabbed bleached fabric, pulled and threw. _Repeat._

_Repeat until the end of class._

_Until the end of the week._

_The end of the month._

_Repeat._

It was less and less dark outside every time he walked back to his dorm. Olly stopped being around. Probably at his folks' place in Belfort, like last summer. _He could’ve at least said something before he left._ He did last time.

 _Repeat,_ Samed's body eased into the positions, the katas, faster now.

Then one day Sensei replaced his orange belt with a green one. Samed accepted it with a bow.

_Mindo—_

The job interview was just him naming the various parts found in most skycars and some shuttles. The job itself was just people coming in to look for the right parts for their skycars and shuttles, which he'd help with, and sometimes, by force of habit, even give advice.

_Baaba comes by with a new supercapacitor for the family car: this old, busted up model both of them love. They integrate it seamlessly. The engine stops making that clicking noise like it's struggling._

At least the boss allowed him to fiddle with any old pieces laying around. At least it was better than working tech support last summer. At least it paid well. Well enough to book a one week trip to,

_Mindoi—_

That word for home stood among many others on the departures table. The disembodied echoing voice announced his gate and he put his backpack on.

His heart broke as soon as the shuttle door opened. It was the same smell of fresh summer rain, the same ever present comfortable moisture in the air, the same sun that warmed his cheeks. Toulouse had chilly winters and hot summers. Home was constantly just the right kind of warm. 

Before long, his backpack stood next to him on the grass as he sat on his knees before two graves, two names engraved in stone: Isam Nasr Ghannam. Hadia Ghazzawi.

“Baaba. Maama. Hey.”

A gentle breeze brushed his cheek. _Every time,_ Samed thought and smiled.

“There’s been a lot going on since I last came here." It felt a bit weird speaking in Arabic again after a whole year. But it was nice to feel the words roll off the tongue. "I finally started talking to someone about—well. You. And what happened—here. I think I’m slowly starting to get better. So. That’s good.”

The breeze blew a bit stronger, loosely whirling around him.

“I also started practicing judo. Mrs. Costa—uh, that’s the name of the therapist I’m seeing—she suggested it. I got a green belt now. That’s—neat.”

Samed could almost hear his old man say, _Oh, judo? What is that, throwing people around? Ahhh ‘albi, just be careful, okay? And don’t attack anyone. Unless they hit you first. If it’s self-defense—I have no problem._ He could almost see Baaba raise both arms as he said that last part.

A small smile tugged at Samed’s lips. “I'm fine, Baaba. Judo is all about self-defense, anyway.”

Sadness gripped his stomach as the realization hit. His smile faded. The breeze slowed down, brushed his cheeks again.

Samed sighed and continued. “I’ve been drawing a lot lately, too. It’s been helping me, whenever I’m in a slump.”

He could almost see Maama’s gentle smile draw across her face.

A glassy film appeared before Samed’s eyes—he took off his glasses and folded them. Then took a deep breath and exhaled. “God, I miss you guys.” His stomach gripped tighter. “And I miss working in the garage with you, Baaba.” His lips curved into a bitter smile. “An old lady came looking for a supercapacitor in this shop I worked at and—” His voice started to break. “Remember that messed up car we had? It’s—it’s probably still in the garage.”

Samed’s throat filled with choking sobs.

“And Maama’s paintings too." He kept wiping tears from his eyes. "I’ve been looking at them on the extranet, but. God, Toulouse is so beautiful in autumn. And—” More sobs filled his throat. “And you won’t get to paint it! _La Ville Rose_ and you won’t even get to see it!”

Samed folded his arms and pressed his elbows into his stomach. Then moved his palms to his face.

And just cried. 

Cried and sobbed for a long time, before a distant thunder made him open his eyes. Dark clouds had gathered overhead. He'd forgotten how volatile the weather here was.

“It’s about to rain.” He sighed. “God, I don’t wanna leave you. I don’t wanna leave New Spring, I don’t wanna leave _Mindoir!”_

It was like a wall was very suddenly and violently torn down.

That word sat on his lips, no acid in his throat this time. Just sadness, awful, bitter sadness.

“Mindoir.”

He inhaled a shaking breath. “Mindoir. Mindoir… Mindoir!” Samed began to laugh. “Mindoir! I can say it, Mindoir! Maama, Baaba, Mindoir!” Tears mixed with laughter, sadness mixed with relief, warmth, joy—whatever this was.

The word even lost its meaning from saying it so much—and that made him laugh even harder. Was he going insane?

The breeze turned into a strong wind that blew back his hair, that whirled around him like the robe of a dervish whirls around the dancers themselves. Samed closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaled. And again. His heartbeat slowed down. Inhaled. Exhaled. Another thunder roared, closer this time.

He opened his eyes and calmly said that word again. “Mindoir.” It still sat comfortably on his lips. He softly chuckled.

He took one more deep breath, and continued to sit in peaceful silence with the wind, Maama and Baaba, and all of the souls buried there—friends, family, souls whose lives had ended too soon—before the first drops of rain decided to intrude.

_Mindoir._

It was written on the highway signs as he left New Spring, his stomach full thanks to old lady Orna, and a brand new coffee pot made from copper in his backpack—a present from Ghassan.

Mindoir, written on the Trathe spaceport. On his return ticket.

Mindoir. 

It was written in his heart. Forever.


	8. Love is a rebellious bird that none can tame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olly is a little bit conflicted.

**Mid-September, 2174**

The third year began with a class in Extraterrestrial Computer Architecture and Organisation and Oli took the seat in the sixth row; not too close, nor too far—it was just perfect. Students poured in the amphitheatre, yet only one face shined among the others, the same lad that caught his eye three years ago—only he looked a lot different now.

Still the same shy smile, still the rectangular glasses he pushed up from time to time, only now his hair was shaved from the sides and into a small, messy, curly bun. And the jeans that he wore, as well as his tight shirt were filled in nicely with the slightest bit of muscle definition on both of his legs and biceps. Samedi had this healthy glow about him, brightening the entire room. Made Oli's heart skip a beat, just like when he first saw him, this thin, quiet lad in the library.

Samedi sat next to him, his smell still the same, of roasted chestnuts in winter. "Hey," he said. "Long time no see. You had a good summer?"

A good summer? His summer was spent with Dimi, visiting his hometown in Kazakhstan, meeting his parents. "Eh. Okay. Nothing new. Hanging out with Dimash."

"That’s nice." Samedi nodded, though Oli could not help but notice the subtle twitch in his fingers. "You two have been together for a long time now."

He and Dimi had celebrated their anniversary hiking in the Ile-Alatau Park under a beautiful sunny sky before finishing their day with a picnic as the sun set. But saying all of that to Samedi—Oli’s stomach twisted and he forced a chuckle. "Yes. I think, what was it now? A year has passed? Crazy how time flies, no?"

Samedi curved his lips into a half smile, pushed his glasses up and turned his attention to the professor that walked in.

* * *

They walked back to the dorm campus, he and Samedi, talking about both nothing and everything at the same time. Samedi told about his summer: about the job he took in a store that sold mechanical parts, and all the customers that visited, both clueless and knowledgeable about what they were looking for. He talked about how his judo classes were progressing: how he managed to move up a grade.

They walked until they passed by a café by the Garrone, the smell of fresh coffee too enticing to pass up.

They sat outside, the warm September sun not willing to give up on summer just yet. Oli ordered a café crème for himself and Samedi a bitter Arabic coffee, and continued to tell him—with an excited smile on his face, a smile Oli had not seen before—about how an old neighbor from Mindoir gifted him a coffee pot that he used to use, to make that same kind of coffee.

He was feeling better, his Samedi. Well, not his.  _ Not his. _ Dimi was his, his love, his chéri, and had been for a little more than a year now.

But the way the sun stood high over the Garrone, the way it gave Samedi's olive face a sandy glow, the way it gave those eyes like melted chocolate an orange tint _ —ah. _

Samedi brought the cup of coffee to his lips and a wish spurred in Oli's heart, that he was that cup, so that he could touch, taste those full lips again, like he did on that emotional Valentine's night.

Samedi was feeling better. But Dimi. What he had with Dimi was a long, stable relationship. Would he throw it all away for a second chance with this lad that sat opposite him?

_ Ah, Samedi. Why are you so hard to resist? _


	9. A bad idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relationship breaks.

**November, 2174**

Samed's brain felt like it was going to explode from so much Physics of Electromagnetism. At least the exercises were actually _fun,_ and a lot better than whatever Statistics was. EMP had actual _logic_ to it, instead of being just numbers and formulas and theoretical work. Thank God that he even managed to pass Stats with a nice round ninety in that last exam session of the first year and got it over with.

He put the datapad away, put on his dark green bomber jacket—still in sweatpants however. It wasn't like anyone was going to judge how he was dressed on the roof. He took his small case stocked with about ten pencils that ranged from 2H to 7B, his drawing notebook, and was off. Same as every night—even if he had the room all to himself, now that Louis wasn't around anymore.

He pushed the heavy door and—a lithe man wearing a violet beanie sat in his usual spot—in _their_ usual spot, the lights from the campus below giving his bronze brown face a yellowish glow. Had Samed known Olly would be there, he would've actually put some effort into how he looked. Washed his hair or—the smell coming from inside his jacket was _not_ good—or actually showering.

It didn't matter now. The way Olly sat, hugging his knees, a sparkle in his eyes—something was wrong.

Samed forced a cough to make his presence known and Olly turned, a thin half smile gracing his face, but those eyes still glassy with sadness.

Samed walked over, put his notebook and pencil case to the side and sat down with his legs crossed, facing Olly.

Olly exhaled a shiver, the sparkle in his green eyes trembling. Only two other times had Samed seen him like this—both were heartbreaking. He put a hand on Olly's shoulder and that's when that sparkle in his eyes rolled down his cheek. There was no question about it—Samed pulled him into a hug, and Olly began softly crying in his arms.

"I—I am confused," Olly said, his voice pitched a note higher than usual.

Samed tightened the hug. "What's wrong?"

"Dimi and I—" Samed clenched his teeth. _Dimi?_ This was the first time Olly referred to him as _—that._ It was too sweet, it made his stomach turn. "—we broke up."

Warmth washed over Samed, relief—right before it twisted into a shivering dread. He wasn't supposed to be _happy_ at this. Olly was hurting, crying in his arms. This was an end to a year long relationship. Samed couldn't even imagine the pain, the heartbreak Olly was feeling at that moment.

And yet.

 _I have a chance now,_ a thought scurried through his brain as a thread of Olly's rosey scent reached his senses, making his heart skip a beat.

No.

Olly was his friend. _Act like that, damnit._ "Maybe you'll get back together?" _That's more like it,_ even if it felt like someone was twisting a knife in his heart as he said it.

Olly pulled away, wiped his cheeks and sniffed. Then shook his head no.

"Come on, you've been together for more than a year now, right?" Another aching knife-twist.

"We have, but." Olly sighed and turned his glassy emerald eyes to him, almost like he was searching for something. Something that was still there, unfortunately. Something that never left. Samed turned his gaze away.

Olly sighed again, a deeper, fuller sigh that carried sadness—but Samed could swear there was a small spark of relief inside. It didn't help. "I do not wish to bother you with that, Samedi."

 _Thank God,_ Samed thought and answered with only the subtlest nod.

They sat in silence, both of them: a man enamored with the other, and a man whose heart was broken by another, the unlikely pair of friends they were. Friends. 

Just friends.

"I should go back and collect my things. I do not think it is wise to share a room with your ex."

"Do you have a place to stay at?" _Don't you dare._

"I…do not." _Don't._ "I will make do somehow for tonight." _Let him do that, he’ll figure it out._ "Then I will request another room from the administration office tomorrow."

 _This is not a good idea._ "Why not stay with me?" _No, no, no. Don't—_ "Louis quit this semester, so my room has an extra bed now." _This is a terrible idea._

Olly sharply turned his head, his dark brows raised over eyes that carried a different kind of sparkle. “Are you...sure about this?”

 _No._ “Yeah.” _This is a bad idea._ “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

A faint smile tugged at Olly’s lips, his gaze turning downwards and back up. “Thank you. You are a good friend.”

Samed smiled back and nodded.

“I suppose I should go get my things, no?” Olly stood up and paced back to the door.

This was a really stupid, terrible, awful idea. 

And yet. 

Warmth pulsed in his chest at the thought of finally seeing Olly every day, like he used to. Because he was missing his friend. Yeah. Just a friend.

_How long will you tell yourself that?_

* * *

The door opened with a wailing creak, to a man Oli loved. 

But was it ever love? Or merely comfort? With what he said—Oli's heart felt like a tight rope was sprung around it, his eyes hot with tears. He should not think of this right now. Just retrieve his things and leave.

That man, that man Oli definitely loved at a point in their year long relationship was now doing just that: filling Oli's aubergine suitcase with clothes he had neatly folded.

Dimi turned to him, his thick dark brows knitted together, the muscles in his jaw tense and defined, a cool kind of anger in those brown eyes. He lowered his head and went to the bathroom, leaving Oli to pick up where he left.

Oli folded shirt after shirt, pants after pants, and although it was not as neat as Dimi did it—

His heart sank to his stomach.

This was it. 

Dimi did not do this just out of anger. They had fought before, but they had always made up, and there was always a spark of hope within those beautiful eyes of his. Here—the bathroom door opened and Oli looked into those eyes again, perhaps for the last time. That spark was no more.

"I'll let you pack. I'm heading out, get some fresh air."

"Mon chéri, wait!"

Dimi stopped, his gaze down, the muscles in his jaw tightening again. "Don't."

"Please, my love, let us talk, we can— _I—_ can fix this. I am sorry."

Dimi remained silent. 

Oli's eyes started to swell with tears heavier than the suitcase he was packing, but he continued, his voice breaking, "You know I did not mean it."

Dimi clenched his fists. "Oh you absolutely meant it. It's always that guy, that name, _Samed this, Samed that,_ and now—well." Dimi's lips trembled. "Of course you'd say... _that._ Of course you'd say _his_ name again."

"It slipped out! It was passion, the heat of the moment!"

Dimi pressed his eyes shut and hissed through clenched teeth. "Yeah.” He chuckled, a bitter, angry kind of chuckle. “Passion. Couldn't have said it better myself." He took his coat. "Goodbye, Oli. If you forget something, text me and I'll send it through Miri." He shut the door after him.

Oli sat on the bed they used to share for a year and four months, the bed in which he fell asleep in Dimi's arms every night. He pressed his hands to his forehead and through loud wails mourned the death of the longest relationship he had. Mourned the death of a love he had. 

And he was the only one to blame.

The clock on the wall struck midnight. Oli had packed everything, every trace of him gone from the room.

He locked the door and put the key under the rug. Aubergine case in hand, he rolled it all the way to room forty seven and knocked.

Samedi opened, the one he could not let go, the one that still set his heart aflame, the one whose name still sat on his lips and soul, and yet—shame washed over Oli at the sight, at his heart drumming a fierce beat when those eyes like melted chocolate met his own and warmed his soul on that cold, dreadful November night.

A warmth, a refuge he was, his Samedi—no, not his. Dimi was—he was not his anymore. He had no one now. He was alone.

"Hey. You okay?" Samedi's voice held compassion that made Oli's eyes swell with tears. "Made you some tea. Come on in."

Oli rolled his suitcase inside the room in which he and Samedi had studied a year ago, had watched movies, or simply sat and enjoyed each other's company in silence. 

He sat on the well made bed adjacent to Samedi's, and before he knew it, he had a cup of hot chamomile tea in his palms and a warm hand on his shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay," Samedi said. "If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

Oli nodded and forced a smile.

Perhaps he was not alone. He had someone, a friend. Even if that friend never failed to set his heart aflame whenever he would flash that beautiful smile of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Oh my god, they were roommates](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-P0m0M_8pc)


	10. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does dorm room 47 deal with exam season? Lots of coffee.  
>  _and,_  
>  Samed talks with Sensei about his future after he graduates.

**January–February, 2175**

"That smells exquisite," a soft sleepy voice came from behind, making Samed smile as the coffee started to bubble and slowly rise. It was nice to finally have a roommate that actually _talked,_ instead of just nodding or saying hi.

"Want some? It'll give you more kick than that instant crap you always drink."

Olly huffed, followed by the creak of his bed. "First of all, I do not like that garbage either. My favourite coffee is cappuccino, and the—"

"—more foam it has the better," both of them said and Samed laughed.

The coffee started to almost overflow. Samed lifted it from the gas stove and poured it in a small cup. "Tell you what." He put the cup on the counter and started rinsing out the coffee pot. "Try mine, see how you like it." He shook the pot from any excess water and placed it on the small drying rack.

Olly took the cup in his hand, gently blew away the steam and took the smallest sip before his face turned into a grimace and he put the cup away. "This is vile. I do not think even milk will save this bitter monstrosity of a coffee."

Samed raised his brows. "Milk? In this kind of coffee?" He shook his head and clicked with his mouth for emphasis. "That's illegal, Olly. You're under arrest." 

As Olly laughed, Samed took the coffee pot from the rack, took another cup, filled it with water, poured it in the pot and put another spoon of coffee and about three spoons of sugar in.

"What is this? You are making another one?"

"I'm making a sweetened one, with sugar. That one should be more to your tastes."

Olly sighed. "Fine. I do need something stronger this exam session. And if I drink more instant coffee, I believe I will be sick. Ugh."

* * *

Sensei's voice echoed through the dojo as he dictated the various grapples, throws and katas.

Samed bowed and obliged every time. Before he knew it, he was in the back room with Sensei once more, being handed a blue belt that was to replace his green. Samed bowed as he accepted it.

"You've made some rather quick progress, kid. Glad you took my advice."

Samed couldn't help but reply to that with a proud grin.

"Eh, shouldn't call you kid anymore. You're what, almost twenty one?"

"I'll be twenty one in, um, April, sir."

Sensei tapped him on the shoulder. "Haven't had a chance to talk much, you and I. So." He pointed to the benches and both of them sat down opposite one another. "You'll be leaving soon, eh?" 

"I'll still be in Toulouse, but I won't graduate until September, sir. I need to go through an internship first, and then I'll get my Bachelor's degree."

"And what'll you do after that? You've thought of something to do with that degree?"

God did he ever. His plan used to be to go to college and come back, become a mechanic like his old man, maybe even replace him. But—his heart ached at the thought—his plans were different now. 

"My scholarship was provided from the Alliance, so my mandatory internship is with them. I assume I'll get hired there full-time after that's done. If I do well enough, at least."

"You know one of my military buddies started out like that too? Though she didn't want to serve as a field engineer, became just a grunt instead. She'll deny this bit, but that engineering degree of hers has saved her ass out there in ways not even she can imagine." Sensei laughed. "What about you, son? Ever thought about something like that?"

"Um. The army? I don't know anything about being a soldier, sir."

"Not a grunt. I think you'll be wasted on that. More like, an engineer in the field instead of the lab. I've had a chance to get to know you this past year and a half, son. You're bright. Real good at judo, too—it's not often I get a student that'll zoom through the kyu system like it's nothing. And you want to protect people, right?"

Samed turned his gaze down and nodded.

"Hey, hey, hey, not pushing you to do anything. The Alliance will get a good use of you either way. All I'm saying is, you look like you have a knack for fast problem solving that'll do you good out in the colonies. Plus they're always looking for tech experts out there. Set up networks and electricity, all that jazz. All you need to do is go through Basic, and that shouldn't be too hard. What with me coaching you, heh heh." Sensei winked.

“I still have a long way to go before I get my degree, sir.”

“Eh, just think about it. Not pushing you to do anything. Well. You need to get a brown belt, I’ll push you for that. Been letting you off easy on the last two. Ha!”

A smirk drew on Samed's face. He straightened and made an exaggerated salute. “Yes sir, Sensei sir!”

Sensei let out a comically long and arduous sigh. _"Such chutzpah,_ " he whispered. "You know what? I was wrong. You're still a kid, kid. Now scram, before I change my mind about giving you that belt," he said with a smile.

Samed laughed and Sensei shook his head, that unamused, but warm smile still on his face.

“They shun this kind of backtalk in the military, you know. I’m nice and all, but your drill sergeants will smoke you if you talk back like that.”

Heat rose up Samed's face. “Oh, um—I’m sorry, Sensei.” He scratched the back of his neck. "I thought—"

“Eh, it’s fine. When it’s with me, at least. But hey,” Sensei tapped him on the shoulder again. “You have a long way to go before any of this, said it yourself." He smiled. "Ahh, just relax, kid. And maybe someday I’ll tell you all about this one stuck up drill sergeant of mine that just couldn’t stop giving me crap. Real—” he scrunched his nose and snapped his fingers, _“—magarac... donkey..._ ass! _How did I forget—"_ He shook his head. "Ass. He was a real ass. You wouldn't even believe it, ha!”

Samed nervously chuckled.

“Alright kid, think about this. I know a thing or two about bright soldiers, and you have potential. Don’t know about your degree, but since you still have your scholarship, you’re probably good at that engineering stuff too.”

“So far my average is ninety-one, sir.”

“See? What I tell you—bright. Come here, kid.” Sensei pulled him into a short, two-taps-on-the-back hug before Samed left to hit the showers.

He walked back to his dorm room with a grumble in his stomach, and a bounce to his step at the thought of showing Olly the new belt. But also with that lingering thought: being out there, an engineer in the battlefield. Protecting colonies just like his.

_He pulls out Baaba's gun from the drawer, it feels heavy in his hand every time. Shame washes over him again. He should've been out there instead of cowering in the basement._

He was stronger now. Had a blue belt, knew how to fight. Learning to use a gun shouldn't be hard after all that. It wouldn't feel heavy in his hand anymore. Besides, field engineers didn't even use guns most of the time, right? Just a military grade omni tool and that long-range wire frying thing he'd seen on the extranet and wanted to learn how to do for _ages._

But he had time to think about that. For now, he and Olly were about to start their internships in Alliance R&D. And he had some bragging to do, too.


	11. Fierce like a lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That_ day.

**April, 2175**

Oli opened the door to a dark room. That was strange. Samedi could not have gone anywhere—they returned from work together. Perhaps he was sleeping? He did look a bit odd during the whole day; pale, with bags under his eyes, like he was having a cold. Oli quietly closed the door behind him.

The streetlights that shined outside guided him, and Oli left the box of pizza on the counter and tiptoed to his corner of the room. He quickly changed into more comfortable clothing, lay down on the bed and turned on his omni-tool.

A half an hour passed before Samedi turned in his bed, then put on his glasses, got up, and turned on the light. "Hey." His full lips curved into a weak smile. "You brought pizza."

"Like we agreed, mon ami! Say, are you alright? You did not look so well at work today."

"Yeah. I'm fine. Wanna setup the table and eat together?"

Oli happily nodded.

They unfolded the plastic table and sat down to eat, yet Samedi only ate two slices before giving up and putting his leftovers in the refrigerator.

Something was not quite right. Samedi always had an appetite, and the pizza from _Mama's_ was always delicious—this one was not an exception. His eyes were sunken the whole time as well, and his lips always drew back to a frown, even after jokes.

They folded the table back and went to their respective beds, Samedi again with the covers over his head.

"Are you having a cold?" Oli asked. "I could go to the pharmacy and get you some medicine if you like."

"I'm fine, Olly." The voice that came from the pile of blankets was harsh, coarse—not like Samedi at all. "I just need sleep."

"If you say so, mon ami. But if you need anything, I am at your disposal." Oli continued simply scrolling through his social media.

The room was quiet for perhaps another half an hour before sighs started to come from Samedi's direction.

No. Those were not sighs. He was crying.

Oli got up, careful not to make the bed creak, walked over to Samedi's bed, and sat down. Samedi was definitely crying. Oli put a gentle hand on Samedi's shoulder—

Oli was on the floor the next moment, choking. Samedi stood over him, his eyes glistening in the darkness, his forearm on Oli's throat.

“Olly?” Samedi gasped and released him. He turned on the lights and helped Oli up. _“Shit._ Are you alright?”

Oli nodded as he rubbed his neck.

Samedi sat down on his bed with his head in his hands. "I’m so sorry. I thought—I thought you—" Sobs filled that sentence.

Oli sat next to him. "You thought I was here to attack you?"

"I’m so sorry, Olly. I didn't—I get kind of—just…"

It would be a lie to say that Oli had not been reading here and there about what Samedi’s...condition. Especially after that Valentine’s night. “May I put my hand on your shoulder?” he asked, something that he should have done in the first place.

Samedi nodded. Oli carefully placed a hand and gently squeezed.

"I'm so sorry, Olly. I didn't—"

"Shh. It is okay. I understand."

"God, why am I so _fucking_ stuck, every _fucking_ year? I visited Mrs. Costa again yesterday, I know how to defend myself thanks to Sensei, I'm even feeling better most days. So, God. Why? Why…"

Oli pulled him into his arms.

"And it's not even the right day!" He screamed into Oli's shoulder. "I don't feel anything on the day of the attack, but I always lose my fucking mind on my fucking birthday!"

It was Samedi's birthday? And the attack on that colony was—oh.

Oh.

The room was filled with Samedi's sobs as he trembled in his arms. It wasn't long before both of them were laying on Samedi's bed, his crying face pressed into the crook of Oli's neck.

He cried, his Samedi, cried and wailed until a moment came when he just breathed softly, his warm breath on Oli's collarbone.

A whispered, "Thanks for being here" came from him, his voice still coarse and not like himself. But there was a bit more calmness inside of it, where before there was none.

"It is nothing. I will always be here." Oli gently ran his fingers on his back. "I love you, mon Samedi."

_Merde._

He had already said those words once, to the wrong man, but the right name. Words that ended a year and four months long relationship. Words that now slipped out again, though not in passion, nor the heat of the moment—but in consoling a hurting friend.

But that was just it. Samedi was hurt. He did not need the burden of those words, not now, not ever. Oli opened his mouth, to speak, to denounce, or simply derail, but before he could do so— 

"I love you too."

Bittersweet silence filled the room. Had Oli heard those words earlier, he would have been happy, overjoyed. But those words came out of a hurting man's lips. Perhaps they carried the meaning they would usually hold. Or perhaps they were merely said in a moment of desperation, a way to give a meaningless response to Oli's confession.

It did not matter now. For now, whether Samedi loved him or not, he was still his friend, the best friend he had in the world. And he was hurting. Oli needed to simply be there for him, no matter what.

And he was. He was there throughout the whole night; as Samedi’s tears soaked into Oli’s blouse, and they drifted asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

The taste of cold, leftover pizza had never felt both sweeter and sourer. Samed sat by the counter and ate, the loud drumming of his heartbeat in his ears slowly quieting, though his thoughts still felt as though they were traveling through a thick fog of confusion.

The scent of roses still lingered on his skin, its source still sleeping soundly on his bed. _I love you, mon Samedi,_ those words gave just a little bit of life to the feeling of death he felt every morning after _that day_ for the past five years. God, what he would've given to hear those words at least a year before, but now?

Now, they somehow seemed untrue, said in the heat of the moment, said just to ease his suffering.

Olly crinkled his nose and turned around, his back facing Samed. Good. He had no right being that cute, looking like an angel while he was asleep. Not after what he said. Not before everything from last night was explained a bit more.

Because when Samed said it—he meant it. God, did he mean it. Ever since that damn kiss on the roof, he loved him whenever they'd study together, he loved his laugh, hell, he loved him even when he was with someone else.

But Olly? Olly had been single for what? Five, six months? That wasn't enough to get over a relationship that long as him and Dimash.

Samed sighed and swallowed the last bite of leftover pizza.

There was no use dwelling on this. Not while Olly was still sleeping. Samed hit the shower, that sickly, oily feeling he'd get after _that_ day slowly melting away under scalding hot water—just how he liked it. It melted even faster this time. Maybe he was getting better? That was too much to hope for.

He patted himself dry, got dressed, and opened the door to Olly sitting in his own bed this time. _So much for that,_ a thought flew through Samed's brain which he blinked away.

Olly lifted his head, those green eyes of his wide and piercing. He stood up. "Are you okay, Samedi?"

"Yeah, I'm better." Samed scratched the back of his neck. "Uh. Thanks for staying with me last night."

"It is nothing." Olly looked at him and thinned his lips before continuing. "It is what friends do...is it not?"

Samed's stomach tightened. _Friends? After you told me you loved me?_ He grit his teeth and started, "Olly. What about—what about what you said yesterday? Did you mean it, or—were you just being nice, or—what? And don’t bullshit me. I want the truth."

Olly took a deep breath. "I must confess—I did mean what I said." A smile began to tug on Samed's lips, and he bit down the inside of his mouth. "But—I know you were not yourself last night. Those words we said to each other—it is okay if you wish to take them back. I know you—"

"No!" Samed's heart sank to his stomach. "I—I meant it too. I still do."

"Oh. Well. Um. Huh. Do you—are you—ready? Now?"

Samed sighed. "I want to be. I'm sick of being stuck, and I'm still not a hundred percent okay, but—" Samed knitted his brows, his lips curved into a hesitant smile. He walked over to Olly and entwined olive fingers with bronze brown. "I want to try. If you'll have me. And this, this baggage."

Olly softly laughed, that white smile of his gracing his bronze brown face, those emerald eyes looking away for only a second before meeting his again. He squeezed his hands. "I will have you, Samedi. And this thing you call baggage. Je t'aime."

Samed felt heat rise all the way up his face and couldn't contain the wide grin that formed on his lips. "Je t'aime, uh, aussi?"

Olly laughed and hugged him, a hug that was two years overdue, maybe. But he pulled away and said, "I wish to ask you something."

"What?"

Olly’s eyes were wide and sparkling. "May I kiss you?"

Samed raised a brow. Why would—oh. The question really meant: _will you be alright if I kiss you this time?_

He took a deep breath. "Yes."

Olly practically leapt forward. Lips danced with lips, that same taste of mint and cherry gently brushing Samed's tongue. That spark in his stomach turned into a flame again, but it was easier to manage, redirect to Olly's rosey scent filling his senses, to his silky smooth palms caressing Samed's cheekbones.

Olly slowly pulled away and opened his eyes, sparkling with an unspoken question: _are you okay?_

Tears fogged Samed's glasses, but he started to laugh. A hearty, happy laughter, reclaimed from the clutches of the shadows of his mind.


	12. Tender like the evening star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young love. But what about the future?

**Mid-June – Late July, 2175**

It was hard to keep Samed's gaze from lingering Olly's way as they walked on the bank of the Garonne holding hands. For two reasons.

The main one: just how absolutely magnificent Olly looked. The way the setting sun bathed his smooth face, making his dimples when he smiled stand out even more. How his green eyes shined like two emeralds, even brighter than the violet earrings that dangled from his ears, and how the pastel-pink romper he wore hugged his body, leaving only a little to the imagination. This beautiful angel was his boyfriend now; a smile couldn't help but draw on Samed's face every time.

The other reason had been sitting in his work backpack for about a week now—luckily Olly didn't ask why Samed carried the whole thing for their evening walk.

They finally found an empty bench to sit on, and Samed fished out a violet gift bag and presented it to Olly with a grin on his face.

“What is that? Did you—”

“Happy birthday, Olly.”

Olly gasped. "My love, you did not have to!” He took a peek before continuing, “What are these boxes?”

“Since I know you hate my coffee—”

Olly groaned and rolled his eyes.

“You do, it’s okay. So anyway, I got you a moka pot. And the other thing is a hand mixer, because I know you like your milk foam. Not a cappuccino machine, but I hope it'll do.”

Olly’s pouty lips curved into a wide grin right before he slammed into Samed for a hug, almost knocking him over the other side of the bench. “Mon chéri. You did not have to spend money on me,” he softly whispered. “Will you have enough for Mindoir?”

“Yes.” If anything, the Alliance paid their interns well. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” Samed cupped his face. “You’re my boyfriend. I love you. And it’s your day, I wanted to do something special for you."

Olly chuckled, pulled Samed’s palms away from his face and kissed them. “Merci, mon beau Samedi. I love you too."

"Wanna get some coffee and try these out?"

"Let us just sit for a while, first. Your company is much sweeter than any cappuccino."

* * *

_Hot breaths between lips, two bodies pressed together, Olly's rosey scent around him, a hand reaches—Samed pulls away, lust mixed with concern in green eyes that meet his._

_"I haven't, uh, had s—made lov—had sex, uh." Samed clears his throat. "Yeah."_

Samed sat on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall. 20:57. His fingers kept twitching like the wires in that circuit board he had a hard time fixing last week. He'd cleaned up, showered, got all the necessary stuff to make this go smoothly and safely, there was a knot in his stomach and the sound of the lock turning.

The door opened to Olly holding a small pack of four beers—even more stuff to make this go a bit smoother. That was good. Great! Though seeing Olly all gussied and dressed up just tied that knot in his stomach tighter.

Samed grabbed the pack of beers and the glass bottles clunked against each other, giving away just how much his hands shook. He put the pack down by his bed.

A warm hand on his cheek and a gentle kiss from Olly made that knot just a bit looser. "Do not worry, mon chéri," he said with smoldering fire in those lidded emerald eyes, and the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at those pouty lips. It made the knot in Samed's stomach twist even... _more._ "I will be gentle. And if you feel any discomfort, we can—"

Lips pressed on lips.

*******

Legs tangled together, Olly's warm body in his arms, his beer-scented breath on his lips, musk in the air, and a dull, but pleasant ache between his hips—the knot in Samed’s stomach was satisfyingly untangled.

Though, maybe next time Olly could stand to be just a little less gentle, Samed thought and smiled into Olly's lips.

* * *

“You—wish to be a soldier?” Olly lifted his head from under Samed’s arm and rubbed his still sleepy eyes.

“Not a—" _What did Sensei call it?_ "—a grunt, more like a field engineer. You know, long-range overloading systems, damping, sabotage, disarming bombs—”

“Bombs!?" Olly sharply inhaled. "Are you—you are crazy. You have become crazy.” He got up, took his sweatpants and started putting them on.

A nervous chuckle left Samed’s lips. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, it’s not like I’m doing this on a whim. That’s why I brought it up.”

“So you may give me a heart attack at the beginning of the weekend?”

“Because I love you. Because,” Samed got up, put his glasses on, and hugged a now fully dressed Olly from behind. “I want to hear your opinion on this. Habibi.”

Olly groaned. “You will not _habibi_ me whilst talking about defusing bombs and other things where you can get yourself killed!”

Samed gently rocked him left and right, and placed his head on his shoulder. “Field engineers don’t even get frontline action that much. It’s mostly support.”

“Samedi.” Olly turned, a frown drawn on his face. “Bombs! What if you do not diffuse one in time? Will I get to see an empty coffin then?” A glassy film coated Olly’s now wide eyes and Samed placed a hand on his cheek. “I am sorry. I should not have been so…detailed in my description.”

“It’s okay,” Samed whispered and gently kissed those frowning lips.

“But—Samedi. You have seen the horrors yourself” Olly sighed and looked at him again with pleading eyes.

“That’s why I want this. Imagine if—and this might sound stupid, but—”

“It is not stupid. You feel guilt about your family’s deaths.”

Samed nodded.

“But you were just a child, it is not your fault!”

“I know that. I know that it's in the past and everything. But that just means I can focus on the future—I can help, protect, so others wouldn’t lose their families like I lost mine. Like everyone in my town lost someone in theirs.”

“What if—what if I lost you?”

That question pierced Samed's chest like a dagger. “Olly…”

“Je t’aime, and if you—if I lost you—”

“You won’t lose me. I promise.”

“You cannot promise me that, mon chéri.”

“I can and I will. Even if I’m in a bad situation, I’ll think of you." A half smile drew on Samed’s lips. "And I'll pull through.” 

Olly sighed and quickly whispered, “Bullshit,” which got a chuckle out of Samed, Olly following not long after, but still rolling his eyes.

“Look. Let's forget about this and enjoy the weekend. Let it sit for a while. And on Sunday, tell me what you’ve decided.”

“Sadly,” Olly sighed. “I do not think it is my decision to make, Samedi.”

“Still.” Samed planted a kiss on his cheek. “We’re in this together. Your opinion matters to me. Just let it sit, forget all about it, and we’ll talk again on Sunday. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You wanna go to Saint Ferréol today? It’s gonna be a hot day, and I could go for a swim.”

A smile finally drew on Olly’s face. “Only if we get some ice-cream too.”

Samed grabbed Olly's face and punched a kiss on his grinning lips. “Anything for you, habibi."

Olly sighed and rolled his eyes again. "At least you're using _this_ habibi to convince me about something nice this time."


	13. Meaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough decision is made.

**September–Late July–September, 2175**

The breeze gently circled around Samed even before he sat down, and he could almost see Maama in his mind’s eye, her knowing Look scanning through him almost immediately, and nudging Baaba with her elbow.

Samed sighed. "His name is Olivier,” he quietly said, and heat poured up his face like it lit up on fire. “I would’ve brought him here, but he’s back home visiting family too.” He scratched the back of his neck.

 _Though it would've been great if you could meet him,_ the thought flew through his thoughts as the hint of sadness did in the wind around him.

“But I have some other news. Um. Bigger news.” Samed opened his backpack and pulled out a cylindrical box. "I am—" Then opened the box and gently pulled out the rolled up piece of paper and unravelled it, the text facing them. “A graduated engineer! _Samed Isam Ghannam is awarded a Bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering with an average score of ninety-three point nine,_ " he read its contents. "Would’ve been higher, but Statistics and Probabilities kind of kicked my ass in the first two semesters.”

The breeze practically danced around him again, almost blowing the very important piece of paper out of his hands. He rolled it, placed it in its cylinder box and put it back in his pack.

“So, yeah. I have a professional licence in that now, but.” He swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about something for these past seven months.”

* * *

Olly sat down on the bed. He was biting his lip—Samed knew what that meant. He turned off his omni and sat up to face him.

After a full minute of dragging his teeth over both sides of his lips while looking down, Olly took a deep breath and started, “Perhaps you are right. Engineers on the field do usually stay in the back. And you will only have two years of mandatory service.”

Samed brushed a finger over Olly’s hand on the bed.

“And I know you need to do this. If I stand in your way,” Olly lifted his head, glassy green eyes meeting Samed’s. “I do not wish to be the reason you are not happy, my love.”

“Olly…” Samed cupped Olly's cheek with his other hand. “You think you don’t make me happy?”

“No, it is not that.” Olly’s lips curved into a half-smile. “I know you, Samedi. I know your life, and I. And I know how hard it is to make your attention detour from something you are passionate about.”

“I’m passionate about you too, you know.”

“I am not doubting that, my love, enough!” He chuckled.

Samed smiled. “We’ll chat every night while I'm out there, and as soon as I get some leave, I'll soar through the galaxy just to see you.”

Olly raised a wry brow. “You will not.”

Samed pursed his lips.

“I am coming with you.”

“Wait. What? You’re gonna enlist too?”

“No.” Olly's pouty lips twisted into a smug smirk. “I talked to some of the colleagues in R-et-D, we could convince the boss to let us team up out there, in the colonies. I could be with you every step of the way.”

“You think Arnaud would allow that?”

“I am sure of it. Us two, we are his best newcomers, after all.”

“What about Basic? I won’t see you for eight weeks.”

“You worry too much, mon cheri.” Samed raised a brow at that sentence. If anyone here was worried, it was Olly. And sure enough, he broke into an adorable chuckle. “One email a week is allowed, no? I will write to you every time." He took Samed's hands and kissed them. "This, I promise you.”

Samed touched his forehead to his. “You know I love you, right?”

“You never fail to remind me, my love.”

***********

“Gotta say, kid,” Sensei said as Samed was trying on his new-won brown belt, “You really did put in the work. I was just joking about letting you off easy by the way, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Samed chuckled. “It was, sir. But, I’ve been thinking about what you said. The field-engineer thing?”

“Gave it some thought, huh?”

“I gave it a lot of thought. Even talked it out with my, uh," Samed scratched the back of his neck. "Boyfriend." Heat rose up his cheeks. It was like that one time he told Baaba about his first boyfriend. The first and last time he ever talked about relationships with his old man.

 _Oh God, what if Sensei gets all 'unwanted advice' about it too?_ Samed's stomach twisted.

Sensei raised his brows, with a look in his eyes that said he was equally as uncomfortable about talking about these things as Samed was. "So, uh. He giving you trouble, kid? Need me to give him a little talk? Tell him there's nothing to be scared about?"

Samed widened his eyes as droplets of sweat began forming on his forehead. _God, he's exactly like Baaba._

"Wait, crap, you actually didn't tell me, you enlisting or not?"

"I am." Samed exhaled a small sigh of relief. _Thank God he dropped it._ "And as a field engineer, like you said. Not a grunt."

"Heh heh, my boy!" Sensei pulled him into an almost crushing hug. "When are you leaving, kid?"

"After. I. Graduate—" Samed barely spoke before Sensei let him go, thank god. "—and take care of some things.” Air started returning to his lungs. “So, October, probably."

 _"So August's starting in two days, September,"_ Sensei whispered. "Good. I have two months to get you ready. You up for that, kid? Not that you're not physically ready now, but Basic is serious work. I could make it slightly easier for you, make you graduate a little faster."

Samed took a deep breath. "I'm ready, Sensei."

"What, you're not being sassy with me this time?" Sensei clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Samed pursed his lips before curving them into a grin. He straightened, and saluted. "Yes, sir, Sensei sir!"

"Louder, kid, from your gut."

Samed took a deep breath through his diaphragm, like the breathing exercises they practiced at the end of every training, and shouted, **" _Yes sir, Sensei, sir!_ "**

Sensei's mouth curved into a smirk and he folded his arms. "That's what I like to hear, kid."

* * *

"So yeah. I'm supposed to start Basic next month."

The wind was silent. It had been silent the whole time while Samed talked about his plans to enlist.

 _Are you out of your mind, waladi?_ He could see Baaba yelling—and he never yelled. The only time he did was when he'd walked in the garage to find Samed's ten year old self trying to connect the engine wires. _You were supposed to work here after you got your diploma, I even got you a uniform with your name on it for when you graduated and—_

"And I won't get to use it with you." 

Samed had found that uniform in one of the closets, right before he left for Toulouse the first time. It was a dark-green jumpsuit with his name embroidered into it, bought in a height 190, in case he'd grow even taller after college. 

"You're not here, Baaba. _You're not even talking to me right now,"_ Samed whispered. "You _can't_ talk."

 _'Albi, we support you no matter what,_ Maama would say and mean it. She meant everything she said, always. _Your Baaba is just scared for you, that's all._

"Look, I've thought about this long and hard. For months. I think it's the right thing to do. I get to protect people like me. Like _us._ Families."

He could see thin, reluctant smiles on both of their faces.

"I get to use the stuff you taught me, Baaba. And. And I get to save _you,_ like you saved me."

_"Hide in the basement, 'albi!" Baaba says and pulls a gun from his drawer. Really old model, still uses bullets. "Go!"_

_Samed scrambles down the stairs. Explosions roar outside, every scream feels like it's drilling a hole in his mind—_

Samed shut his eyes. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, smudging his glasses. He took them off.

The breeze brushed his face, almost like it wanted to wipe those tears off.

"I don't—I _can't_ know what God has in store for me, but this, this path...it's calling to me the most. I feel like this is where I'm supposed to be. At least." Samed took a deep shivering breath. "At least," _it will make all that suffering mean something._


	14. The beginning of this path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basic training and mutual yearning.

**October–December, 2175**

"Shepard, Samed" was written on the two small aluminium plates that sat light in Samed's palm. It had the correct birthday, blood type and religion, but that name, 'Shepard', stuck out like a sore thumb. Even more so now that he could see crystal clear without his glasses.

He returned to the reception desk. "Um, excuse me? I think there's been a mix up with my last name." 

The person behind the counter took his tags and scanned them and then his face with their omni-tool. Then typed something on their terminal. "No, I believe everything is in order. Samed Shepard, born the eleventh of April, year twenty one fifty four. Blood type is A positive, and you have Islam listed as your religious preference. And I have an exact match for your picture too.

That wasn't right. His last name was Ghannam, which— _oh._ "I think there's been a translation glitch or something during processing, then. My last name is Ghannam. It means shepherd in Arabic, so I guess there’s been a mixup or something."

The receptionist's eyes widened. "I am so sorry, sir. But.” They started to type something on their terminal. “I'm afraid nothing can be done right now. However, you can inform your drill sergeants of your last name upon entry, and after your training is complete, you can file for a name change. That should be your best and fastest option." They handed Samed's dog tags back.

Samed looked once more at the tags, at that name. He thinned his lips, but he managed a nod back to the receptionist. "I'll see what I can do, thank you."

They gave him a polite smile. "Anytime."

* * *

A loud horn blasted through Samed's ears, forcing him awake. In walked a broad-shouldered woman, shouting all sorts of commands: _make the bed, put on the uniform, stand in formation._

"Yes, drill sergeant!" The entire room stood straight and barked back.

It was barely morning as they ran laps outside. Dozens of men, women, people of all backgrounds beside, in front, behind him. Oddly enough, his muscles didn't burn as much as they did in judo. Must've been the gene enhancement doing its thing.

Next came jumping jacks, push ups, and he could actually do all of that with relative ease. Maybe it was different in Sensei's time or maybe Sensei was right. Those two months of extra training had paid off.

The sun pushed its first rays through the cool October air and the first beads of sweat formed on Samed's shaved head. 

The food turned out kind of decent: parboiled rice with veal, and a protein bar for desert. He was really going to buff up, _wonder what Olly will think when he—_ Samed's heart sank, a bitter cold beginning to take shape in his chest.

He had nine weeks left to go. And three days until he'd get access to his mail.

There was only one problem however: that name, Shepard. Whenever he'd even _glance_ at the drill sergeants' direction, his stomach would turn, and Sensei's voice would appear in his head, loud and clear: _they'd smoke you if you talk back._ Just like they did to that one recruit on the first day.

And what would he even say? _There was a mixup with my name, could you please call me Ghannam instead?_ They'd remember his face, his real name, and he'd get smoked or picked more often.

So he pressed on.

More training.

Sleep.

Running, jumping, pushups at the crack of dawn.

Lunch.

Repeat.

Repeat until—

_My love. I hope this message finds you well._

Samed smiled and bit his lip. Even Olly's emails sounded like him. His vision became blurrier and blurrier the more he read. The message had it all. It talked about Olly's days, about his lonely nights, about the new season of Wrestlemania—Olly didn't even _like_ watching that. But he did every evening, because _"it is almost like you are there with me, my love."_

Samed wiped his wet eyes and took a look around the room: almost everyone was reading their mail with reddening eyes and ever so subtle sniffing noses. The cold in his chest slightly faded at the sight.

He smiled and started to type. 

_Hey._

No, he couldn't start it with just "hey." Not after Olly's literal poetry that somehow managed to make the 'Tombstone Piledriver' sound almost romantic. He selected everything and began anew.

_Habibi._

No, that was weird. Backspace _—a twinkle in Olly's emerald eyes, a question that had just left his lips. Samed lists every Arabic expression for love he knows of and Olly giggles more with every single one, Samed's cheeks become overwhelmed with kisses._

Maybe not so weird. Samed switched the typing language to Arabic, the cursor moved to the right and he typed that word again.

 _My beloved_ . That was more like it. Though, still not enough. He needed to go harder on the honeyed words. _The eyes of my eyes,_ he continued, _the love of my heart, I love you, I miss you, I dream of you every night._

A smug smile drew on Samed's face as he turned the keyboard language back. He could almost see Olly's face as he read that, that bright white smile of his after he'd hit the translate button.

* * *

The weeks went by as slow as a snail trying to move on dry concrete. The mornings were sad without Samedi in his arms, the walks to work were dull, the laboratory felt emptier without Samedi's focused face, Oli's new apartment dark and cold without Samedi's warmth.

Oli would document everything—almost like a journal. Then come Friday, he would combine it all into a nice message for Samedi to read.

And wait. A return message would arrive not long after, Samedi telling him all about the exercises, the food, the people, his week there.

But most of all, Oli looked forward to the video calls, a rarity as they were. He would see him, his love, his Samedi, without his beautiful hair, yet his cheekbones still pronounced, his full lips in a smile, his brown eyes full of love, love that radiated even through the screen.

"It's good to hear your voice," his Samedi would say, a sorrow in those words of his.

Words that Oli would return, the same sadness in his voice. "Likewise, mon chéri."

Those calls, they lasted for a maximum of five minutes, one every three weeks, and if Oli could, he would have recorded every single second of them and play them back every night before he slept. He would hug one of his love's jumpers, its smell of roasted chestnuts in winter almost thinned out, and simply wish he was here, his beautiful Samedi.

* * *

He looked dashing in a military uniform and beret, his Samedi. They had agreed to merely shake hands at his graduation, since Oli was to work the same posts as him, but as soon as Samedi sat next to him on the shuttle back to Toulouse…

Oli fell asleep in Samedi’s arms and Samedi in his, their fingers entwined on the armrest between their seats.

He was back, his love, his soldier, his soon-to-be field engineer, his beautiful Samedi, still smelling of roasted chestnuts in winter.


	15. Together again

**Late December, 2175**

Sweat-laden foreheads touched as panting breaths hovered between them. Olly's skin glistened in the low rainbow light coming from the small Christmas tree in the corner, his eyes two crystal clear emeralds in Samed's vision. In fact, everything was crystal clear: the faint outline of abs on Olly's slender body, the muscle definition in his legs. It made the whole experience even better than Samed remembered.

Olly took a deep breath, then broke into a chuckle. "You have become quite endurant, mon chéri. And…" He ran a hand down Samed's back, making the hairs on his body stand on end. "You have acquired quite the physique, as well."

Samed smirked. "Hm. Thought you'd like that." He put a palm on his silken smooth face, brushing the tiniest follicles of freshly shaved beard hair. So much detail; it was like he had a brand new Olly in his arms. 

Well, no. It was still the same sweetheart of a man he loved, only now—now he could see even more of him.

"A shame about your hair." Olly's hand moved up his back, caressing the back of his shaved head. "I loved those soft curls of yours."

"So.” Samed raised a brow. “You don’t love me now that I don’t have them? Damn Olly. Using me just for sex? I'm heartbroken." He fell backwards onto the bed, a wry grin on his face.

"No!" Olly's eyes widened. "Now you look, _how do you say it,_ rugged, handsome! I never stopped loving you, mon—"

"Relax.” Samed pulled Olly down into his arms. “I’m just messing with you."

Olly breathed out a sigh of relief, then shook his head. "Messing with you, he says, like he did not accuse me of not loving him. Bah."

Samed laughed and pressed a kiss onto those pouty lips he'd only seen through a holographic screen for nine weeks.

* * *

Olly’s new place wasn’t much bigger than the dorm room they used to share, but it didn’t matter; the person currently living in it did. Besides, it was only for those twelve weeks of Samed’s Engineering AIT in Toulouse. Once he’d have finished that, Olly would be posted wherever he was; apparently Arnaud managed to convince some higher ups that he and Olly made a great engineering team. _And a great couple,_ Samed held back a smirk every time that sentence was mentioned. All they needed to do was hide the latter from any COs or higher ups.

But that was something they’d have to worry about in the future.

For those ten days of leave that followed after BCT, he and Olly were inseparable.

A trip to Paris, a walk on the crunchy snow that covered Champs-Élysées, a tour in the Louvre and all the pictures Samed could covertly snap of the place. Then came New Year’s Eve, which he and Olly spent in a homey atmosphere with some maqlubeh that Samed cooked—and still couldn't flip the pot without the whole thing falling apart immediately after—and a single glass of white wine, the bottle picked by Olly.

The new year began in the best of ways: with a kiss from the man Samed loved. Hopefully the entire year would follow in the same way.


	16. Little by little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AIT and meeting the Lamarres.

**January–Late March, 2176**

Turns out, circuits could be overloaded from a distance.

All a person needed to do was send a powerful enough wireless signal through their omni-tool. If their opponent wasn't in any cover, their shield generator would then pick that signal up and scramble—leaving them vulnerable. Just like in the vids.

_ And it’s really cool,  _ Samed couldn’t contain a grin every time he practiced it.

A similar, higher-frequency signal was used to overheat weapons too: it would trigger a rapid temperature increase in a person’s weapon, making it both not fire  _ and  _ burn their hands in the process.

Then followed hacking, bomb defusal, and the best thing of all: repair training—which made Samed almost feel like he was back in Baaba’s garage. The only thing different was that these repairs had to be done a lot faster. And while bullets flew all around him.

He’d occasionally see Olly during his posts and studies. A nod in the office, a make-out session in the broom closet, and those twelve weeks went by fast and culminated with a new title of Private and a week of shore leave before they were to be stationed on a small colony named Tiptree.

* * *

"Now arriving in—Belfort," the disembodied female voice woke Samed up from his nap on Olly's shoulder. "It is currently—five degrees Celsius. Enjoy your stay!"

He and Olly took their luggage and hailed a cab from the train station to Olly's parents' home. Olly rang the bell and a short woman, her dark hair in several braids that fell on her shoulders, opened the door. It was surprising how much she looked like Olly himself: the same bronze-brown complexion, the same thin nose and green eyes, only hers were a lot rounder, where his were almond-shaped and upturned.

She jumped and squeezed Olly to the point where he groaned and begged her to stop. Then came a tall, dark-brown man from behind her, the same sort of angular face as Olly, the same almond eyes but brown, and a greying beard around the grin that had just formed as soon as he saw them.

"Maman, Papa, this is Samed, my boyfriend."

Samed's French was still a bit rusty, but he began, "Nice to meet you both."

"Ha! Samed! Like the day, Saturday!" his dad said, and Samed and Olly exchanged knowing looks and stifled smiles.

"Oh, come in, come in, we just made breakfast!" His mom said and then continued, "Ah! Where are our manners? My name is Hélène and this is my husband, Florent! It is very good to meet you, Samed!"

They sat down for some nice breakfast consisting of  _ pain perdu, _ mixed fruit jam, and coffee, where they asked Samed absolutely  _ everything _ about his life.

Full and caffeinated, he and Olly took all of their luggage upstairs. Olly opened the door that had his name on it, and Samed was greeted by—

A _really_ cool room. 

Posters lined purple walls, some from albums, others from bands. The pink-red lava lamp that stood on Olly's desk caught Samed’s attention, right next to a black bean chair in the corner. The other side of the room though, was filled with a large bookcase that had a gap in the middle for what looked like an old timey turntable. And the bookcase didn't actually have books. Those were, "Wow, you have vinyls?"

"Ah yes. Music is simply superior on a vinyl disk. The compression of sound in digital files is simply too much. You can never hear the—"

Samed sat on the bed as Olly kept going on about music compression and old school analog disk-reading while perusing his vast library for a record.

"Ah! I think you will like this one!" Finally he picked a vinyl and put it on. "See? The music is so vibrant, magnifique, every note is—why are you looking at me like that?"

A grin was apparently on Samed's face. "I don’t know. I like it when you get all passionate about stuff."

Olly got all flustered and sat next to him on the bed.

"Also, you're kinda making me want to disassemble your record player. It sounds fascinating."

"Oh, I have done that, with er—with my old one. Hence why I have this one. Please do not do it. There is nothing special about it, I promise. Besides, it is the best one I have had so far!"

"Wait. How many of these have you had?"

"Er. Lots." Olly adjusted his beanie. "Fifteen. I always found the sound needed improving, so they would break when I tinkered with them. This one? Ah, she survived the test."

Samed laughed and pressed Olly's head on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Your record player is safe from me."

"That is," Olly sighed a sigh of relief. "Very good to hear, mon chéri. But before you even get the chance, what say I take you on a walk around the town? It is a beautiful day and you have to see how everything looks from the fortress on the hill!"

Sunlight entered the room and Samed smiled. "Lead the way."


	17. A yearful of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That day. Reclaimed.

**April, 2176**

About half an hour after lights out, Samed's omni-tool faintly beeped with a message from the secret channel he'd set up. Which meant only one thing.

_Meet me on the Plains of Wonder in fifteen minutes._

He turned the display off, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and he sat and watched, making sure everyone was asleep.

He quickly and silently got up and got dressed—he knew the drill, almost every night—and headed out, closing the door to the barracks behind him very slowly and carefully.

A slight chill welcomed him outside, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. It was technically winter on Tiptree, but apparently a small breeze was the coldest it got. _Mindoir had no winters,_ a thought scurried through his mind which he shook off.

He walked through shadowed spots between the houses and prefabs, carefully avoiding the cameras he helped set up.

Though, Plains of Wonder was a bit too open for a tryst. Maybe Olly told him to meet there to break it off? He had been acting a bit weird and avoidant ever since they got stationed. Samed shook his head, took a deep breath, exhaled and continued walking. Olly wouldn't do that. He was nice and sweet and he cared. Then—why there?

Crawling under the barbed wire on the edge of the small town, Samed finally left the small colony and continued onwards. After passing through a wheat field, the Plains of Wonder marvelously opened before him, true to their name. The Milky Way sprawled above, his only guide, and he walked with an almost bouncy stride, towards a faint light in the distance.

It wasn't long before Olly's form became visible in the silver starlight, laying down on some kind of blanket, next to a big camping bag. Samed quickened his pace to a jog and jumped on top of Olly, both of them rolling off the blanket and onto the grass.

Samed smiled at his beloved under him, the faint light of the stars making his bronze brown skin glow and his emerald eyes glisten. He leaned in for a long, wet kiss.

He pulled away, brushed Olly's face with his thumb and stood up, eyeing the camping bag. "What's all this? The woods were too cramped for you this time?"

Olly chuckled. "Indeed. But there was another reason I brought you here, mon chéri." He sat up and opened the bag next to him, revealing a wine bottle, two glasses and a plastic box with what looked like some kind of pastries or sweets. Olly took the bottle and glasses out, poured the wine in both and passed him one. Samed raised a brow.

Olly swooshed the white wine in his glass and began, “I have been thinking about this day and how to go about it.”

“What day—oh.” Samed's eyes widened. It wouldn’t be for a couple of hours, but. “My. My birthday.”

“It is not what you think, mon chéri. I know how painful this day is for you. So I have a proposal. We reclaim it.”

“How?”

“It might be painful for you to think about this, and I am sorry, but—do you remember how we first declared our love to each other?”

Tension released from Samed's muscles, just a bit. He sighed and smiled. “It was a year ago.”

“Indeed.” Olly’s voice turned soft and silent. “So why not claim this day for us, my love?”

Samed turned his gaze to the glass of wine in his hand. Then to the man in front of him, the stars in his emerald eyes, a smile on his lips that put a smile on Samed’s too. “You know I probably won’t be in the mood for anything more, right?”

“Shh." Olly brushed his hand. "That was not my intention tonight, love. Your warm presence is enough to warm my soul on this cool evening.”

Samed brought his glass up and Olly followed suit. “To a whole year with you, then,” Samed said.

Glass clinked with glass. “To you, mon chéri. Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi—” Samed couldn't contain a grin. “—habibi.”

Olly responded with a soft chuckle as Samed pressed his lips to his.

Two lovers lay under the stars, as the cool breeze became even colder. They stayed close, in a tight embrace, sleeping peacefully in each others arms, and woke up before the first rays of light lit up the sky.

 _That day_ may have received a new meaning now, but as Samed went back to the barracks, as he went about his day, there was a sinking feeling in his chest, a knot in his stomach that kept on tightening, those screams that shook his very core six years ago still loud in his mind. 

Olly kept reminding him to eat, to drink water, to just take care of himself. 

The day turned into night. Samed's mind began to quiet down.

He survived. Again.

And as the galaxy sprawled above the Plains of Wonder, that knot began to slowly and painfully unravel with aching sobs in Olly's arms.


	18. Heroes (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samed and Olly go on a much needed vacation.

**October, 2176**

The shuttle doors opened and Oli and Samedi were welcomed by the sight of green mountains with just a pinch of snow on their crowns, and the smell of fresh pine in the cool wind. It almost reminded Oli of his hometown, the wind that would chill his cheeks, coming from the Alps to the south like an old friend every winter.

The colony of Elysium was to be the perfect spot for their two week vacation, after six months of near-constant work. They could try the saunas, the hot springs, or perhaps even skiing? Samedi had told him he never learned to ski, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity for some lessons.

* * *

"I hadn't even realized how tight my muscles were." Samedi purred in his embrace as the warm water bubbled around them. "Maybe we should take leave days more often. Three days in and I feel so…mmm."

Oli massaged the short burr of hair on Samedi's head; hair that used to be soft long curls he would carefully stroke whenever they slept in their small dormitory bed. It sure was pleasant to do that once again, sleep in the same bed, as well as not wake at the earliest hours of the day just to head to their respective posts. But alas, it was the career Samedi found himself in—and despite everything, they were successful in making it work.

Yet, there were nights when Oli's mind kept wandering to the same question: how long would it last? How long would Samedi be in the military, how long would they have to hide like this? Samedi had served for only a year, and the minimum was two. After that—well.

Perhaps it was too early to talk about the future. Certainly not while they were enjoying their vacation.

* * *

A tremor that shook the ground was their only warning, before the sound of gunfire became prominent in the early morning breeze. Samed pushed Olly to the ground.

Then came the menacing, deep voices. Gunshots. High-pitched screams.

_His legs don't work. His arms too. He is stuck and people outside are either dying or taken prisoner or—acid dripped down his throat and into his stomach—or worse._

_"I need a gun, give me a gun, my family is out there!"_

Samed crawled to his suitcase. Opened the secret compartment. He had a gun now. Cocked it. He had the skills, too.

_"Get to the basement, 'albi!"_

Not today. Today, he was protecting the ones he loved.

Today, he was getting payback for the ones he couldn't, six years ago.

* * *

_"_ _It's safe here Olly. I can't have you—"_

_"Like you were left in that basement?" Oli's voice snaps his beloved Samedi out of his hardened facade. "You underestimate me, mon chéri. And you underestimate my skills as an engineer. I can handle myself and I will get these people to safety. Trust me."_

_"Just. Be careful, alright? I can't lose you too." Tears break through his soldier's eyes._

_"Even if I am in a bad situation, I will think of you. And I will find the strength to succeed." Oli brushes the tear off Samedi's olive face._ _"It is what you told me once, remember?"_

_A bitter chuckle and their foreheads touch. "I love you."_

_"Je t'aime aussi, mon amour."_

Oli would lie if he said his heart was not beating like the explosions that followed his every step. That his soul did not crush when he and Samedi became separated. But he could do this. He had to do this.

There were about twenty people behind him, among them children, and they would never find out how scared he was. Perhaps even more scared than them.

Because they needed him. Samedi needed him. He had to use the schematics he downloaded from the hotel's servers, and guide those people through the underground sewers and to safety.

He could only hope Samedi was doing equally as well on his end, if not better.

* * *

_Breaking news!_

_The human colony of Elysium was attacked earlier today, by a large band of pirates operating from the Terminus systems. The locals, led by an Alliance soldier named Samed Shepard, who was on shore leave during the time of the attack, managed to hold off the pirate gangs on the ground, while the Alliance Navy engaged the pirates' vessels overhead._

_The freshly enlisted Private Shepard is currently being treated for his wounds in a local hospital on the colony, while the death toll for this tragedy was surprisingly low: only twenty-three confirmed deaths and forty-one injured. In comparison, the casualties from the attack on Mindoir six years ago were in the tens of thousands._

_Coming up next: who really is the hero of Elysium? Did he perhaps have help from an unlikely source? Alliance News Network decided to dig deeper, and what we found may surprise you! This is Diana Allers reporting from the SSV Agincourt. Stay tuned_ _for more after the break!_


	19. Heroes (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**October, 2176**

_“We’re not pirates, human.” The main four-eyes puts down his weapon and the rest of the group follows suit. “We’re here to help. My name is Strength and we're from the Batarian Independence—”_

Samed gasped and opened his eyes. There was a clicking noise coming from somewhere—no, it wasn't a clicking noise. It was—a heartbeat. A monitor. Like people had in movies. Which meant—

He blinked, once, twice—white walls, a needle in his arm.

He was in a hospital.

_The smell of eezo adds to the copper smell that fills the air, Samed recognizes what it is immediately—shuttles, big ones, blue, an emblem he remembers: two curved lines over a planet. Alliance. It's over. He helped._

_He **helped**. _

_His heart pulses with warmth, overwhelming warmth, unlike anything he's ever felt before._

_“At least it will make all that suffering mean something.”_

_This is his path. Loud laughter erupts from his chest._

_This is what he's supposed to do._

_Samed turns to Strength—_

_A lifeless body. But,_

He survived. _Again._

The door opened to a person in blue scrubs. They asked if he was awake. Then moved a finger left and right.

The words stammered in his throat, but he managed to ask, "Any... survivors?"

"Only about twenty casualties. Woulda been more without you, young man."

Samed widened his eyes. Mindoir had several thousands. His family: Maama, Baaba, Uncle Farris and Auntie Nesa. Even his nibling that never got the chance to receive a name nor experience life.

Only twenty casualties.

Olly led that many people through the sewers.

The heartbeat monitor began beeping rapidly. _Olly._

"Lamarre. Olivier, uh. Tech Specialist with the Alliance, is he—"

"He's out there waiting for you to wake up, don't worry." The nurse chuckled. "And he's being a pain in my ass about it."

He was alive. Olly lived through that. Samed breathed a sigh of relief. "I need to see him. Please."

"Not so fast, soldier. Need to run some tests first, make sure you're okay."

The nurse wrote things in their datapad while they checked his wounds. Apparently he had to get stitches for his forehead—his first battle wound and it came from hitting the edge of the bed back at the hotel too hard, while pushing Olly down.

The second wound was a bit more interesting—a bullet hole in his left bicep that now had a bandage wrapped tightly around it. He took that one for those kids. Those four eye—those _batarian_ soldiers. If they could even be called soldiers. Just kids with guns. Then again, so was he—the same sixteen year old colony kid that learned to shoot a gun and managed to save a whole other colony somehow. 

Twenty. Only about twenty people died—twenty graves that he needed to visit as soon as they'd release him from the hospital. He owed them that, and their families.

Nurse muttered something about how Samed was on the edge of losing too much blood. But perked up quickly and continued, "Looks like you'll live, soldier. I'll call your boyfriend over right now."

"Thank you so, so much."

"I should be the one thanking you, young man. My kids are alive, thanks to you." A bitter smile drew across their lips before they left.

Not a moment too soon a bronze brown face entered, followed by a gasped, "Samedi!" before he ran to him, his lips stopping only millimeters from his.

"Um. Olly?"

"May I?"

"God, kiss me already!"

Olly's lips gently touched his. And after a pensive pause, they did again. And again and again, painless and revitalising, every single kiss. 

Those kisses stopped when someone in the room cleared their throat.

Olly straightened and froze while Samed tried to salute with his uninjured hand—and felt a tug from the transfusion cable in response.

"At ease." His CO, Commander Dara stood at the door. And she just saw what he and Olly had been trying to hide for about half a year. _Crap._ "You feeling okay, Private?"

"I'm on morphine, ma'am." Why did he say that? _Not a good way to talk to your CO, Samed, what the hell?_

"I...see. How about you, Specialist? I heard Shepard wasn’t the only one with the heroics yesterday."

"I—yes. The group of people from the hotel—I-I-I managed to pass through the hotel's firewalls and download—um, find an underground sewer channel, that's where we waited for Sa—for Shepard—Private, um, Shepard to give me the signal to come out."

"I want you to write a report on that, Specialist. It seems your—" she cleared her throat, " _colleague_ will not be the only one with a medal." 

"A medal?" Samed raised his brows. He was barely out of Basic and they were giving him a medal?

"Yes. Star of Terra, the highest award an Alliance soldier can have. Brass's orders. And you Lamarre, a Distinguished Civilian Service Medal for you."

"I—thank you, um, madame."

The Commander nodded. "Now if you can wait outside, I have some matters to discuss with the Private."

"Y-yes, madame." Olly awkwardly saluted and left.

The Commander began pacing the room and only one thought boomed on Samed's mind: dishonorable discharge. They could always give him that medal and quietly tell him to buzz off. Just because he saved a colony didn't mean that he was suddenly exempt from getting discharged for breaking the fraternisation regs. At least he managed to save some people before he got the boot.

He took a deep breath, his bandage moving ever so slightly around his arm, and began. "What did you wish to discuss, Commander?"

"Oh, many things. Starting with your name, Private. A reporter had to inform me that your last name wasn't the same in both the official records and military ones. Care to explain?"

 _Shit._ "My last name is Ghannam, ma'am. When I enlisted, there was a mixup. Ghannam means shepherd in Arabic, so the clerk that processed me must've put the wrong name down."

"I see. It has happened before. The question is, why didn't you issue a correction in the database?"

Samed turned his gaze down. "I thought it wouldn't matter. Ma'am. And, um. Didn't wanna bother the drill sergeants."

"Really? A translation error and you went along with it?"

Samed swallowed. "Yes."

"Khm—I'm sorry—" The Commander burst into laughter. "No, no, really? Hahaha! And of course no one in the Alliance didn't check." She continued laughing, sitting down on one of the two chairs in the room. Samed's stomach felt like it sank more and more each passing moment.

Finally she stood up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and whispered, “ _Useless bureaucrats._ Listen, Private. I've got reporters demanding to know which name to put public. My advice? Go with Shepard. It’s a lot easier on the tongue, and you'd be getting some privacy from the press too, now that you're famous."

"I. I understand, Commander. But what about my official records?"

"I'd change that too, unless you want reporters bothering any relatives of yours."

Samed’s stomach sank. He still had some aunts, uncles, cousins, maybe even grandparents in the Levant that he'd been meaning to track down for years, but hadn’t had neither the time nor credits to do so. And to have them learn about him like this? His stomach sank. Guess 'Shepard' it was for the time being. _I’m sorry, Baaba._

He swallowed. "I understand. I'll change it on official records too."

"Don’t worry, you can change it back once this blows over. My old CO did just that."

Samed gave her a thin, faint smile.

"Another thing. I understand there were batarian friendlies engaging the pirates?"

"Yes. They were part of some organisation, Batarian Independence... something? They—" Samed's stomach sank. "They sacrificed themselves to buy the remaining civilians more time to evacuate. They should get some kind of postmortem medal too."

"I see. We already found a datapad with their manifesto on site and forwarded it to Alliance command. However, the Batarian Hegemony has denied their involvement in this attack. If information about this organisation's involvement goes public, it would ruin all possible relations with the Hegemony, strained as they are already.”

"Wait, what? So I'm supposed to lie on my report?

"Don’t get me wrong Private, the Alliance encourages reports as accurate as possible. However, we may have to redact the necessary parts. I trust you understand why."

Samed frowned. He wanted to protest, to say _something,_ but as soon as he opened his mouth, the Commander cut him off with, 

"There is also another matter. You and Lamarre—I take it you're more than just colleagues?"

Samed swallowed. "Yes ma'am. I understand it's against the rules of fraternisation, and it will not happen again."

"It actually isn't. Not until this moment, that is. See, Alliance brass has some plans for you, Shepard. You've more than proven your leadership capabilities during this mission. You'll be promoted."

"What?"

"Not right away. You are given a two month leave and we'll need to do some psych evals first, but you're to be enrolled in OCS, Officer Candidate School. Should you graduate, you'll be promoted to Second Lieutenant."

"I—thank you, ma'am."

"I wouldn't thank anyone yet. I'm afraid you and Lamarre will need separate postings. As a commanding officer, you cannot be involved with anyone under your command. _That_ will be against the regs."

Perhaps it was the news that he just took or the morphine leaving his system, but it felt like Samed's left arm lit on fire at those words. Many thoughts spun through his head, many things he wanted to say. _Can me and Lamarre just hide our relationship? We've been doing that for six months! Can you put this under the rug?_

But he knew Commander Dara. As nice as she was to her subordinates, she was still a by-the-book person, and even if he and Olly could keep something like this quiet, no matter how much Samed begged and pleaded—she wouldn't. She couldn't.

He just stared at her, the look of a man who won, and yet suffered defeat despite it all, at her stern face.

"I'm sorry, Private. But those are the rules. If anything, Brass wouldn't lay a finger on you—they value you so much, they even gave you a Star of Terra. But Lamarre…"

"They'd fire him instead of me."

"Correct."

 _Fuck it._ "Commander, with all due respect, you are the only witness to this. Me and Olly—uh, Lamarre will do everything to hide this, it won't—"

"I didn't find this out when I opened the door, Private. Witnesses saw you and Lamarre share a romantic embrace right before you split off, there are many reports stating this. And Alliance Brass has their eyes on you, my potential silence will not change that. Consider this a friendly warning. Any other CO would've split the two of you off without giving you even a moment's notice."

"I. I see."

"I will call him back here. Give you two a chance to discuss the situation."

Samed's only response was another frown. Those nine weeks of Basic were hell without Olly by his side. To have to do it again—to have to do it for _years…_

"Oh, and Private—Samed," the Commander's voice softened. "Long distance isn't as bad as you think. Lot of soldiers have significant others waiting for them back home. I wouldn't worry about it too much," she said and closed the door behind her.

The door that opened again, to Olly's worried face. "Is everything okay? Will she pardon us for breaking the regulations?"

"Olly." Samed thinned his lips and his vision turned foggy. "I have some bad news."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used "nibling" here instead of using niece or nephew. Google said that was the most often used gender neutral term.


	20. A hopefully brighter future

**December, 2176**

Despite the cold weather—the one thing Samed didn't miss about Toulouse—it was nice seeing _La Ville Rose_ again after almost an entire year. Even nicer that Samed could request a therapist himself, instead of being assigned someone he didn't know, to complete his mandatory psych evaluation.

He chose none other than his own Mrs. Clarisse Costa, who was kind enough to stall giving his superiors the green light until January.

Samed and Olly used that time to find a decent place in the city, a bigger, more permanent one, a place that Olly—well, both of them—could call home.

A home Samed would not even be in most of the year.

_Olly squeezes his bruised, calloused palm. "Then we have no choice but to make this work, mon chéri." His emerald eyes show hope for once, but also something more—they're hardened, changed. Still the same eyes that he loves, but—no one goes through something like that without scars._

_And though his body is untouched, his scars are still there._

_"I must confess. I cannot work on colonies anymore. What if—what if we get attacked again and this time—" Olly's lips begin to tremble. "What if—what—oh, Samedi." He breaks into heartbreaking sobs. "What if we die? What if I die, or. Or worse, what if you do not come back to me?"_

With their increased salaries and some financial aid from the Alliance after what happened on Elysium, they managed to find a decent place in the city's centre, and relatively close to Olly's—and Samed's former—workplace.

Samed's wounds healed quite quickly; he'd heard of 'medigel' during his military training, and how fast it healed ordinary bullet wounds, but it was insane to see it in action. Almost like a super bandaid, complete with how it stuck out on his olive skin whenever the nurse would apply it.

All that was left were the _other_ kinds of wounds. The kind he used to try and heal whenever he talked to Mrs. Costa or just beat into submission with Sensei.

He visited both of them during those three months. First, he told Mrs. Costa about the entire attack, sparing no details: the initial shock and how it reminded him of Mindoir, Olly's basement retort and how it managed to snap him out of it, and finally—that squad of batarian rebels that offered help.

"How did that make you feel?" Costa asked, as she usually did.

"Angry at first. I mean, a bunch of kids stood before me, flinging their manifesto or whatever in front of my eyes while innocents all over the galaxy were terrorized by their four—their. Pirates. While my family died. Like it would bring them back, make everything okay, **_I could've been married by now!_** _"_ Samed raised his voice, that fire inside of him, that fire that made him shut himself down, shut his whole body down now searing its way out.

"I could've had a normal job, or maybe took over my dad's repair shop, and now!? Now I have to be away from the man I love because of this stupid feeling that I have, to help, to protect people! This feeling that I just can't seem to shut off!"

_At least it will make all that suffering mean something._

He turned his gaze down. "Okay. Not a stupid feeling, but—"

"You can't help but think of the life you would've had."

Samed nodded. "And Olly—he has to be a military spouse now, basically. I'm putting him through that and I—it isn't fair to him."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because I love him, and I already fixed myself up and now—guess I'm not fixed up. My attacks just turned into something else that makes his life hell."

Mrs. Costa shook her head. "Samed, you fix yourself up for yourself. Not for others. And every time you used to come into my office, you lamented how you wanted to _be normal,"_ she put her datapad down and motioned quotes with her fingers at 'normal'. "Was that because of Olly too?"

"It was—" Samed sighed. "—one part of it."

Mrs. Costa straightened up and took the datapad in her hands again. "Significant others are there to love and support you. And I get the sense that you enjoyed doing what you did on Elysium. You enjoyed protecting those civilians, you enjoyed the feeling of a job well done. _That_ is why 'you cannot shut this feeling off.' What you felt was pride. Am I correct?"

Samed took a deep breath. Then nodded.

"Then, if I have the liberty to say so, ‘that feeling’ is you, it's your core. You will be asking Olly to accept you, and that is the foundation of all relationships. So there is nothing to worry about there."

Mrs. Costa helped all she could, but she wasn't the only part of Samed's "get better" equation.

Sensei welcomed him to the dojo with open arms and the tightest hug that left Samed completely breathless. "Heh, look at you, boy." His hazel eyes still pierced down to Samed's very core, every time. "You came here, nothing but skin and bones all flailing about on your first class and look at you now. Saving a whole colony. The missus and I watched you on the news, you know. Scared the crap out of both of us, but you did good."

Samed awkwardly chuckled. "I'm supposed to get a Star of Terra too."

Sensei laughed and pulled him into another, even tighter hug. _If that was even possible,_ Samed thought as Sensei was practically crushing his ribs. "I'm proud of you, son," he whispered in Samed's ear, making his vision go all blurry. Samed swallowed those tears however—other judoka were still around, young, fresh faced university students, like he used to be when he first came to the dojo.

"Thank you, Sensei," he barely managed to whisper back.

"Nuh-uh. It's Amir to you, now."

"So you're not my Sensei anymore?" Samed gave back a wry smile.

"How. Dare. You?" He tapped him on the shoulders. "I'll always be your Sensei, boy. Never say that again." He wagged a finger at him before he burst into laughter. "Now come on, I want you to show these kids how it's done. And if I know the Alliance, they're gonna put you in officer school after this. Need to prepare you for that and prepare you well."

* * *

"Maama. Baaba. Hey."

Their names stood before Samed, engraved in stone. Isam Ghannam. Hadia Ghazzawi. Neither of which he carried anymore.

"I'm sorry, Baaba." That new name on Samed's shuttle ticket still stuck out like a sore thumb. "I'm still your son. I'll always be Samed Ghannam, but. It’s just—apparently I'm somewhat famous now and—I didn't want anyone bothering our family back on Earth. Not before I do, anyway."

The gentle breeze brushed his cheeks, like a ghostly, _We understand, 'albi. It’s okay._

"So in other news." Samed exhaled. "I saved a colony from pirates. No big deal. Got a medal too." The breeze danced around him as all he managed was a small smile back.

"Though, I'm afraid I'll have two places to visit now whenever I get some leave. Olly." Samed sighed. "I don't know if he'll ever be okay enough to come here and meet you. That attack—he's doing a lot better than I was six years ago, he's already seeing a therapist, but. He's kind of afraid of travelling off-world now. He was really jumpy when accepting that medal on Arcturus."

Samed managed a thin smile.

"Wish you could've met him. We're going strong for about a year and a half now and. Who knows? Maybe when I'm done with all the military stuff—eh, that's too soon to think about now." 

Samed chuckled as a memory of him as a naïve eight year old popped into his mind.

_"I only love Sizwe. I wanna marry him!"_

_Maama laughs. A very young Samed asks himself why, but it'll be years until he understands. "Ah, 'albi. There is plenty of life ahead of you to think about that. You need to grow up first!"_

Well. He was a grown-up now, by all accounts. Had his own place, cooked, cleaned, had a job—even if that job was the military. And yet, whenever he sat there, in front of the two graves out of many—he still felt like that little naïve kid, thinking that everything was so simple in the world.

_Bullets and explosions echo around him. “We’re here to help.”_

And it wasn’t. It was thousands of difficult shades of grey between the simple black and white. Thousands of shades he still couldn’t wrap his head around.

* * *

The dining room was filled with all sorts of dishes and salads. Samed's clothes even smelled of cooking—he and Olly sure were busy the entire day.

It was worth it. Their last night together, their last New Year's Eve before OCS. Before going deeper into long distance. Into military life.

But that wasn't important at that moment. And neither was the well-prepared table. For now, at least. Smooth, soulful jazz began playing from the bathroom and that was Samed's cue—he undressed and opened the door.

The bathroom was littered with all sorts of vanilla and rose scented candles. Rose petals covered the entirety of the floor, some floating on the soapy water too. By the bathtub stood two half-full glasses of wine, and in that bathtub—the man he loved, his smooth skin glistening with a soapy moist glow. Samed couldn't help but smile. "You really outdid yourself."

"So did you, I am sure. I could smell the, _what was the name,_ à l'envers?”

Samed chuckled. “Maqlubeh. But you’re close. Just missed the language.”

“Oui, that. Which is why you need to relax, mon chéri. Join me."

"With pleasure." Samed tested the water with his hand—hot, it should give them more time to relax before it cooled—and went in, snuggling comfortably in Olly's embrace. "Mmm. Such a shame we didn't get to—" _do this more before our vacation was cut short,_ Samed decided against finishing that sentence. This night was to be just for the two of them, an escape from that which loomed in the near future. "I missed this."

"I did as well." There was a pause and a stiffness in Olly’s whole body before he continued, "I will prepare these baths whenever you come visit."

They had agreed not to talk about anything that had to do with the military or long distance, but—Samed smiled nonetheless. "Thanks."

"But for now," Olly handed him the second glass of wine. "To us, my love. This year has been a total mess. May the next one treat us better. I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, habibi." A sentence that never failed to make Olly chuckle.

Glass clinked against glass and their last evening of the year began in the best of ways: with a lovers' kiss and a bath to cleanse the horrors from their souls and send them into a hopefully brighter future.


	21. Light years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long distance is hard.
> 
> And this chapter is too, both long and hard. Minor TW for a panic attack.

**January, 2177– June, 2178**

He left in the early hours of a Saturday morning, his love, his soldier, his Samedi. With a changed name and the scars that kissed his skin and soul. 

His smell, the smell of roasted chestnuts that made the winter streets a bit less cold, still lingered in this new home, the home that was supposed to be theirs, but after he left, it felt empty, missing him like Oli missed him.

_Ah, mon beau Samedi. Hope you are safe. Hope you come back to me every time._

* * *

The eleventh of April. It was a date that Samed dreaded every year, but now, fresh out of OCS and into a shuttle back to Toulouse, a part of him was excited. It was still _that day_ , and there was still a knot that nagged and pulled in his chest, but,

_“Why not claim this day for us, my love?”_

He was finishing the jagged lines that began to look more and more like his Olly—the only thing that kept that knot from unravelling in the worst of ways. 

The disembodied voice announced that the shuttle would be landing shortly, just as he finished writing "Happy 2-year anniversary" under the drawing in cursive.

* * *

Before Samed knew it, he was back on Tiptree, leading the tech operations there instead of being the one that set them up. Now a Second Lieutenant, only three ranks below Commander Dara, he still wasn’t sure why Olly couldn’t be there with him. Fraternisation regs or not, the two of them really made a great engineering team out there.

Olly may not have had much say in the final decisions, but his brilliant solutions made a lot of Samed’s work easier; whether it was an easier way to implement a piece of hardware, or suggestions on any wiring reroutes. Samed occasionally consulted with him during one of their late-night vidcalls, but not too often—those calls were just for the two of them after all.

And a shining light in the lonely nights.

The galaxy sprawling above him, he lay on the soft grass of the Plains of Wonder every night, Olly’s face on his omni, Samed’s left arm cramping from holding it at face height every time.

It was always some hour in the morning in Toulouse whenever they spoke. Olly always left his terminal pointing towards the counter as he made coffee in the kitchen while doing the cutest pajama dance.

A dance that never failed to put a smile on Samed’s face, no matter how crappy his day was.

* * *

The city lights outside bathed his skin in their blue-pink haze. The air was damp and filled with musk, but it carried his smell as he slept in his arms, his warmth, his touch unfelt for three months. Three months that felt like three years.

In a second, dawn arrived. In an hour, they spent a whole day together. In a day, a week passed.

A kiss, his smell in their last embrace at the airport, the city's lights bathed his skin in their blue-pink haze. His touch to be unfelt for another three months that would feel like three years.

* * *

Samed always made sure to keep his culinary skills sharp while on shore leave, but it had been a while since he made his trademark maqlubeh, straight from Maama’s cookbook. A whole year in fact—he hadn't made it since last New Year’s Eve.

And once again, the kitchen smelled of rice, eggplant, minced meat and allspice as the pot was left to cook on medium heat. Hopefully it wouldn't break apart when he flipped it this time.

He was in the middle of washing his hands when his omni rang with an email. Judging by the monotone ringtone, it was Alliance command. He opened it and—he was being transferred after his shore leave. He’d get a more detailed briefing then, but for now it had something to do with reconnaissance: setting up the necessary equipment and monitoring data on some kind of remote moon.

But that didn’t matter now. He hadn’t seen Olly in months. And with the amount of teasing Olly did on the ride home—he programmed the stove to turn off after exactly forty-five minutes and stripped down to nothing but an apron. _Two could play that game._

* * *

"Wait. You are being transferred? Where?"

"They didn't say. I'll know after the briefing."

Olly's brows scrunched up, his whole body stiff now, after he was practically a puddle of satisfaction only half an hour ago. His emerald eyes began to glisten.

"Hey." Samed brushed his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I—" His voice came out broken, shaky. 

Samed tightened his arms around him. "Hey. I'll be fine. From the email, it'll probably be some reconnaissance thing, no big deal. And I'll call every day. Nothing will change. Okay?"

Olly nodded. "Yes. Please do."

"You know you're always on my mind out there, right?"

"You never fail to remind me, my love."

Samed smiled and Olly replied in kind, the glistening of tears from his eyes now replaced with that emerald spark Samed loved so much.

"I love you, do you know that?" Olly asked in French.

"Yes. And I love you too," Samed replied in kind.

* * *

"Hey. I've missed your voice."

"I have missed yours too, my love. I have been worried sick."

"Yeah, sorry. It was hard to establish a connection here the first few days, this is fresh ground."

Oli breathed a sigh of relief, his hands no longer shaking, like they have done so for the past three days. "Good. Good. Will you call more often, then?"

Samedi thinned his lips. Oli knew what that meant. "I'll try, but—this connection is heavily encrypted. We set up a limit on our extranet access so we don't get caught. Every soldier gets one hour of call time per week."

Oli's heart fell from his chest into his feet. "Samedi." His voice cracked. "I—and emails?"

"I'll try to text, but I can't promise anything at the moment."

Hot tears welled in his eyes.

"Hey. Hey. I'll be okay. I promise. And it's in shifts too. I should be back on the Singapore in a month. Then I'll talk your ear off."

Oli tried for a chuckle, but only a sob left his lips. "That will be a stressful month, then. What about—when should I expect you here?"

Samedi thinned his lips again and turned his gaze down. Oli's heart broke at his answer.

* * *

Six months.

Six months without his love, his Samedi. Not even his clothes would hold his smell for that long.

Oli kept occupied, his work, his master studies, but it was not enough. He still cried every morning, desperately clutching the jumper that Samedi wore around the house, that smelled of him, that smell of roasted chestnuts in winter that Oli loved, that kept waning with each passing day. 

Winter passed, the days became longer and warmer.

His Samedi got a shift change on their anniversary at least. Oli finally saw his beautiful face over his omni-tool's screen, a face that looked worn out—as always on that day, but also tired. He saved a colony, he was a hero, his Samedi, and now they were working him day and night.

And yet—Oli knew his love, his soldier. He knew he would not quit this, that this was his calling. Just as Oli's laboratory work was his. He knew not to push, not to prod. But some small part of him wished to scream, scream at Samedi—no—scream at whoever was working him so harshly.

Alas, all Oli could do was be there for his love. Wait for him. Love him. Pray that it would be enough.

* * *

_This just in, we have reports of Alliance raids currently in progress on several pirate strongholds across the Traverse. The first one began on the moon Maezuno, orbiting a gas giant named Theshaca in the Hong System, Armstrong Nebula._

Oli’s blood froze. That was Samedi’s post. He turned up the volume and the whole laboratory turned to stare at the television screen.

_We also have reports of several Alliance casualties on Torfan, another moon orbiting that same planet._

Merde. No no no no no, this was not happening. Not again. Oli’s heart began pounding in his chest, his hands already numb.

* * *

Omni-tool on. Off. On. Off. On. Oli refreshed his feed. No news on Samedi’s whereabouts, yet.

_Samedi is Muslim, he would want his funeral to be done accordingly._

_No! Merde! He is not dead, snap out of this!_

Off. On. A new search. “Muslim funeral rites.” _Merde, enough!_ Oli closed the tab. Deleted his search history. _What if there is no body?—Argh!_

He stood up and began to pace the living room. The living room filled with pictures of them together, that drawing he made for their second anniversary.

Oli took it in his hands, its material hard yet the surface smooth. “Happy 2-year anniversary!” They did not get to celebrate their third. _There will not be a fourth—NO!_

“Merde, call, you imbecile! You stupid man, why did you have to join the military?” Oli pressed the card to his chest and began to sob, six months worth of tears pouring out of him. “Why did I fall in love with you, why did I agree to this?”

He lay on the sofa and cried for God knew how long until—a ring from his omni-tool. An unknown number.

Samedi’s face. “Hey. Miss me?”

“Did I miss you? You dare ask this!?” Oli’s blood felt like it was boiling. “I thought you were dead, you stupid—”

“Hey, hey. Easy. This is an official channel.”

“Do you think I care? The news talked about raids, lots of casualties!”

“I’m coming home in a few hours, okay? I’ll tell you all about it. I’m fine. I’m alive. I wasn’t on that Torfan raid, just a skirmish near my base.”

“You could have—”

“I couldn’t contact you, I’m sorry. I got to a terminal as soon as I could. I’m on the Singapore now, we just went through the Charon Relay. Can’t wait to see you.”

The way Samedi said that, the genuine sorrow in his voice… “I cannot wait to see you too.” Oli broke down again. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Olly. And I love you,” he said the last part in French and continued, ”do you know that?”

“I love you too, you imbecile.” Oli chuckled, barely, and Samedi followed in kind.

“I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“I will prepare a bath, then. As I promised you. Every time.”

“Looking forward to it.” Samedi gave a thin smile.

The call ended. Oli collapsed on the sofa, his heart still pounding in his ears.

_What if I imagined that call, and Samedi is still dead?_

Oli turned on his omni-tool. The number was still there. Then turned his omni-tool off. On. Off. On. Off.

It was an hour until he finally managed to get up and prepare that bath.

* * *

The door opened and Oli ran to Samedi’s embrace, an embrace that did not smell like roasted chestnuts in winter, but rather—like wires, burnt and overloaded. There was only a small trace of that leguminous smell left, but—

He held his lover’s face with both hands, there, alive, his eyes as watery as Oli’s. That scar on his forehead still there, his eyes like melted chocolate, those full, kissable lips. And yet.

And yet, Oli’s heart still pounded in his ear, his chest tight with uncertainty. He was there, his Samedi, in front of him. But something had changed. Something that would hopefully be scrubbed off of both of them after they take that long-awaited bath together.

* * *

The SSV Singapore had big showers and nice-smelling soap, but if there was one thing Samed missed, it was Olly’s long fingers gently massaging his head. He sat in the tub, six months worth of stress melting away in the hot soapy water, and Samed melting in Olly’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Olly chuckled, but it wasn’t in the same kind of melodic tone of voice Samed remembered. “I missed you too.” Something was missing in that sentence. Samed couldn’t tell what.

Still, they’d been away from each other for six months. Six months that Samed took pretty hard, and if _he_ took them hard— “Hey.” Who knew the pain Olly was in? “I know there’s a lot of time to make up.”

Silence was Olly’s response.

“We can do something for our anniversary if you like. And your birthday's in a week, right? Wanna visit a fancy restaurant, maybe have an actual vacation somewhere? I have a whole month worth of leave after this one, we can do whatever you want.”

He looked up at Olly’s pouty lips. “I—That sounds nice.”

“Hey. Talk to me, Olly. I know you’re upset and I know—”

“A bath is not the right place for these kinds of talks.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the water will get cold. We would be fighting and freezing at the same time.”

“Fighting?”

“Also we are both naked. It is…silly.” A small smile couldn’t help but draw on those pouty lips Samed loved.

“No, I think it’s the best time to talk while we’re both naked. But you’re right about the water.”

“If you think I will be in the mood for—”

“I didn’t think that. I meant—” Samed trailed fingers down Olly’s smooth chest. “—touch. I haven’t touched you in six months. If we’re fighting, well. I wanna just be as close to you as possible. I missed you out there, habibi.”

“Merde,” Olly rolled his eyes. “Why did you have to talk in that voice, and those words?” Olly sighed as Samed smiled. “Fine.” He took a deep breath. “I was scared for you, Samedi. And I do not think a month of shore leave would mend my heart that broke for you before you called.”

“Then what would? I’ll do it, whatever it is.”

“I cannot ask that of you, mon chéri. I know your reasons and your purpose and I—I love you too much to stand in the way of your dreams.”

“I love you too.” Samed’s hand drifted around Olly’s waist. “My dreams—I wouldn’t call the military my dream. More like a need, an itch I need to scratch. We stopped a whole network of pirates with the work we did those six months. A whole lot of colonies saved, colonies like mine.”

“I know that, my love.” Olly sighed. “Another reason why I did not wish to discuss this right now. We are both freshly scarred from what happened. Perhaps—perhaps this is a discussion for another time. Like you said—you will stay here for a month. There are a lot of things you missed. And,” Olly raised a brow and squeezed Samed closer, “a lot of touching as well.”

Samed leaned his head in the crook of Olly’s neck. “Okay. We’ll talk another time, then. Besides, they’ll probably take it easy on me after this one.”

“They better. Or I will personally call whoever is in charge and complain. Very loudly.”

Both Samed and Olly burst into laughter.


	22. A dance of hurt

**August, 2178–January, 2180**

The alarm blaring its sour note woke Oli up to a quiet home.  _ And so it begins anew. _

He took two multivitamin pills with water and headed over to the kitchen. The moka pot was assembled—not what Oli remembered doing before sending Samedi off to the airport in the dead of night. He unscrewed the top and the coffee compartment was already filled with espresso and neatly patted down—just how Oli did every morning. There was water inside the bottom compartment as well. Strange.

Only when he put the assembled dish on the stove did he notice the message written in cursive on a paper note: 

> _ Hope your morning begins with a smile!  _
> 
> _ -S _

Sure enough, it did. It almost felt like Samedi's warm arms reached from the back and held him tight, sweaty from working out while sleep still hung over Oli's mind.

But alas, he was not present. He was off to whatever assignment they would put him through, his soldier, his lieutenant.

_ What if this time he does not come back home? _

A knife twisted in Oli's stomach. Did he drink the vitamins? Yes, yes, he did. A double dose. Perhaps they needed time to kick in.

_ And so it begins anew. _

* * *

_ "They’ll probably take it easy on me after this one.” _

Samed was eating the words he’d said about seven months ago as he sat behind a crate, the sound of gunfire bouncing between the shipments of eezo that filled the small warehouse.

It began with setting up new outposts for the Alliance, when a random group of merc pirates attacked; either because they were trying to secure a foothold or just theft, before they realized who they were really dealing with.

Then came Samed’s promotion to First Lieutenant, and from there on, it was pirate raid after pirate raid. Luckily the raids weren’t anything big, but they didn’t come without at least one injury every time.

This one was a bit different—he and two others from Captain Ramirez’s ground team were deployed to check out what the Captain speculated was an empty warehouse—turns out the mercs’ engineer masked any signal that left their base—and Samed and his team ended up pinned down behind a large crate of red sand.

He’d called dibs on their engineer, while Ferguson and Darzi’s orders were for anyone stupid enough to get near. Or just to slightly move out of cover—that was usually enough for Darzi and her sniper rifle.

Samed’s gun finally cooled off after the overload from that merc. He took a peek out of cover and _ —got you. _ He extended his omni-tool-readied left hand and fried the engineer's shields—just as they fried his.  _ Shit. _ A flick of his fingers, Samed shot another electric pulse, this time aimed for their gun, and—something stung his little finger just as he retreated to cover.

“Engineer’s down, Lieutenant!” Ferguson unloaded his rifle and barked proudly, a crooked smile on his freckled cheeks peeking from his helmet.

“Good job, Corporal,” Samed hissed as he shook the sting from his hand.

“Got burnt, sir?” Darzi asked, one dark eye still on her scope.

Samed took off his glove. Part of his little finger was actually charred.  _ Olly’s gonna kill me. _ “I’ll live.”

“Not if your  _ habibi _ has anything to say about that!” Ferguson said, and both him and Darzi laughed.

“Veery funny you two. How many hostiles left, Chief?”

“Three—” Static over the comms and a gunshot. “Two, sir.”

“Nice. Come on, let's finish these assholes off.”

* * *

Four years. He'd been with Olly for four whole years. Even longer, if he counted those two or three years as friends before that.  _ That sure is a long time, _ Samed thought as he boarded the flight back to Toulouse for their anniversary.

_ "Maybe when I'm done with all the military stuff—it's too soon to think about now." _

He still wasn't done with the military, not by a long shot. There was still that itch, that  _ need  _ in him that sated itself after every successful assignment. There was always something more, something that almost looked like it waited for him to grasp it.

But. Four years? It wasn't too soon to think about that stuff now. Olly was listed as his emergency contact, his place was already written as his home base on military records. That was where all of his stuff was, the only place after Mindoir he’d considered a  _ home _ . Olly was the person he ached to see every time he got some leave. Maybe  _ that stuff _ was already there in a way, only without the written records to bind them.

In any case,  _ that stuff  _ wasn't something one did on a whim, even after four years. And it wasn't something they'd talked about either—though perhaps they should.

How would someone even bring something like that up?

Maybe he was overthinking it. If it comes up, he'd go for it. And things always got tense whenever Samed came back—he applied a bit more medigel on his little finger, but the skin still looked a bit off. Hopefully Olly wouldn't get stressed about it.

* * *

"It's healed now, see!"

"That is not the point. Your shields were down, you could have—what if the gunmen aimed for your head!?"

"They didn't have a sniper, only an engineer and some grunts. Besides, Ferguson and Darzi had my back, they wouldn't—" Samed sighed. He was explaining military tactics to a civilian. Besides, "Olly. It's our anniversary. Four years, remember? I'm here, I'm alive, I'm okay."

"One day you would not be. And what then? I already visit a therapist, should I just check myself into a psychiatric hospital then?"

Samed frowned and Olly's eyes went wide.

"I—I did not mean to imply—"

Samed got up, pulled Olly up by the hand and into a tight hug. His vision blurred and he shut his eyes tight, hot tears falling on his cheeks.

Olly slowly put his arms around his waist. "I—I know I get irrationally scared and—but—"

"Olly," Samed whispered. "I don't wanna fight."

"Me neither."

"I love you, and—four years! I've been with you for four years!" Samed held Olly's adorable face in his hands. "You're all I think about out there. I'm very careful when a fight breaks out. You don't have to worry."

Olly's emerald eyes started to glisten. "This might sound crazy, but—what if I stop worrying for one day. And that happens to be the day when you—" He shook his head.

“‘Even if I’m in a bad situation, I’ll think of you and pull through.’" A half smile drew on Samed’s lips. "It's what you told me on Elysium, remember?"

Olly sighed, then bitterly chuckled. "I hate you."

Samed laughed.

"I also said  _ bullshit _ when  _ you  _ first told me those words. You—ah, merde. I have tolerated you for four years, I cannot believe this."

"I can. Because I love you. Tolerate me for years to come?"

"Ah. I suppose I have to." A half smile tugged at his lips. "I love you too, you stupid man."

Samed grinned and littered Olly's face with thousands of tiny kisses.

* * *

Always a new injury with his love, every time Samedi came back from a mission. The multivitamins did not help anymore. Oli had barely made it through his master studies and if he were to advance even further—those injuries, those worries, were not helping.

His therapist gave him a prescription of some light anti-anxiety medication. "You don't really need this," she had said, "it might help your symptoms, yes, but it is not a long term solution."

What was?

Sadly, Oli knew the answer. Samedi had asked a similar question years ago.  _ "Whatever it is, I will do it," _ he had said.

_ Quit, _ Oli should have said back then.  _ Work with me in the laboratory, study, we could both become Ingénieurs diplômé. You can help people that way as well! _

Instead, it could not help but come out of him, that word,  _ quit, _ whenever his love returned, whenever Oli would see a new wound, a new scar. Whenever his heart would break at the sight.

And it always led to a new fight, Samedi tense and cold every time. He would sleep on the sofa as Oli slept on the bed, both of them hurting from separate rooms, only to make up the next morning.

In those moments, when he would see Samedi sore from not spending the night in a proper bed—what was Oli doing? This was not love.

So he stopped saying that word,  _ quit. _ And the fighting stopped as well.

Not a long term solution, yes, but they did not do the dance of hurt anymore, both of them. A new injury on his love's body did not feel like an injury to Oli's soul. Was it a lack of care on Oli's part or the medication calming his nerves—it was not important. Samedi was, and his happiness whenever he would come back.

It worked, for a time.

Until, on one of his visits, Samedi was unnaturally still and deep in thought.

"Hey. I want your opinion on something,” his love shattered the silence that had settled in their kitchen. “And I want you to know that I love you."

Oli stopped whatever he was doing. A small part of him knew that the coveted long term solution would arrive on that day. That on that snowy morning, they would dance the dance of hurt for the last time.


	23. Crossroads

**December, 2179**

"Major David Anderson." This tall, broad-shouldered man shook Samed's hand. Firm grip, too. "I'm leading the Interplanetary Combatives Training program, and we're always looking for talent."

Samed's eyes widened. "I… I'm sorry, sir. I haven't heard of that program."

"The N7s?"

Samed shook his head no.

"Well, I can't blame you. The training is hard work and only a few make it through. But those few are a special brand of soldiers. And with what you pulled off at Elysium—I think you might be that special brand too, Shepard. So what do you say?"

"Uh—I'm flattered sir, but."

 _Olly._ Things were finally picking up between them, between all the fights. Hell, Samed was even thinking of bringing up the topic of marriage, and the benefits that might bring for both of them. They could work the same postings again, without the threat of fraternisation regs looming over them. Olly was even close to working through that shakiness he'd get whenever he went off-world.

"But?" The Major raised an eyebrow.

"I—I need to think about it first, sir. Consult with someone who's waiting for me back home."

The Major eyed him up and down, like he was reading through him. Then he began to laugh in his deep voice. "I understand. I get it all too well. Well, my door's open, son. Just don't keep me waiting too long. Here's my email address. We'll keep in touch."

"Thank you for understanding, sir."

"You're welcome. Now go. That _someone_ back home is probably moody that you're running late."

Samed smiled. The Major wasn't wrong about that.

As Samed's shuttle passed through the Charon Relay and on its course to Earth, he did a little research on these N7s. They were the most elite of all the special forces: covert, tough missions, twenty hour training days. At least that's what he could find on them with a public, non-secure connection.

His mind couldn't help but go back to Elysium. That joy, that warmth, that pulsed through him once those Alliance shuttles showed up.

_"I get the sense that you enjoyed doing what you did on Elysium. You enjoyed protecting those civilians, you enjoyed the feeling of a job well done. That is why 'you cannot shut this feeling off.' What you felt was pride. Am I correct?"_

_Samed nods._

Pride.

_"Then, if I have the liberty to say so, that feeling is you, it's your core. You will be asking Olly to accept you, and that is the foundation of all relationships. So there is nothing to worry about there."_

Olly.

_The water is warm and relaxing, heals all the aches he's gotten from sleeping in a pod for so long. Olly still smells like his rosey self, his warmth soothes all the longing that's built up those six months._

_But he mentions fighting. He's stiff, tense, his sentences aren't ending in sweet words of love._

_"I wouldn’t call the military my dream. More like a need, an itch I need to scratch. We stopped a whole network of pirates with the work we did those six months. A whole lot of colonies saved, colonies like mine.”_

The military was still far from a dream job. His dream job had always been to settle down somewhere on the outskirts of some city, open a repair garage, like Baaba. Have a family, but—

Pride. 

_"For your actions, you are hereby awarded a Star of Terra. The highest honor an Alliance soldier can receive."_

_"I'm proud of you, son."_

_“At least it will make all that suffering mean something."_

"Now arriving in—Toulouse International Airport."

Olly.

Samed wiped the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Something told him that a big moment was coming. A crossroads that he was standing in front of.

* * *

He and Olly had a nice and quiet New Year's Eve at home. Made love, two souls enamored with each other in their warm, safe home, as snow poured outside.

For a moment, as Samed sank into Olly's embrace, as he gazed into those emerald eyes and drifted into sleep—nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them: no galaxy, no military, just them in their home, happy and in love.

Come morning, everything returned to him.

Major Anderson’s proposal hung on his mind like a cloud, a heavy, dark cloud about to start pouring every minute.

He held it back, at least for a couple of days, while the holiday cheer was still in the air.

Then one day, he was sitting in the kitchen with Olly as he was washing the dishes, occasionally sending worried glances his way. Even Olly was feeling it—that crossroads.

So Samed took a deep breath. And began. "Hey. I want your opinion on something." He swallowed the acid that began pouring down his throat. "And I want you to know that I love you."

Emerald green eyes met his. "I love you too. Is something wrong?"

"No, I just. I have a lot to talk about. And I wanted to talk about it with you. Because. Because I love you, and because, well."

Olly sat opposite him on the dining table, his body tense, his eyes already glistening.

"I've been thinking about the future. Our future. And—I want it to be with you."

Olly smiled, but his voice trembled a bit when he said, "I want my future to be with you too, my love."

"And, um, before I came here, a man came by, military. He," Samed took a deep breath, "he offered me a job. Interplanetary Combatives Training."

"Oh? What is that?"

"It's special forces. More difficult training, but better missions."

"By better, you mean—"

"Harder."

Olly took a sharp, trembling breath, a single tear trailing from his eyes and onto his cheek.

"I wanted to talk to you first. I know that…I know that you get scared whenever I'm on active duty."

"Scared? I am taking medication!” Olly pounded his fists on the table, and that tear broke off from his smooth face and landed on the wooden surface. “I am beyond scared and you—I—" Olly stood up and began to pace the room. Then broke down sobbing. 

Samed stood up and hugged him as tight as he could.

"I cannot do this anymore. _We_ cannot do this. All of this, the stress medication, the acceptance—it is not a long term solution. We are patching up our relationship, while it has been crumbling for quite some time."

"Marry me." The words left Samed on their own. _In the worst possible time._

"I—what?"

"If. If we get married, we can share posts and—"

"No."

Samed only stared in Olly's eyes. Any words he might have had were stuck in his throat, insufficient, inadequate.

"You do not mean that. Not truly. I want a future with you too, but.” Olly’s lips twisted as his voice began breaking again. “I do not think we share the same thought about what that future might be."

"Olly," Samed whispered. "I love you." Like a declaration of love would be enough.

"What if we decide to start a family? Will we raise our children on one of your posts? Or will you be the absent father, leaving _me_ to take care of the entire family?"

"I…" Tightness gripped Samed's chest. "You said the military is my dream once, remember?"

Olly nodded.

"And I told you it wasn't. I still mean that! If I could, I'd have an auto-repair shop somewhere, a big house, a bunch of kids, but. But not yet. I'm still not—I could still do some good here."

"No. Finish that sentence. 'I am still not?'"

"I'm still _broken, okay!?_ I still have this _need_ in me, and—you know what?" Samed left Olly's embrace. "Since we're putting all our cards on the table, I _like it._ I like being out there, I like serving."

Olly shut his eyes tight and grit his teeth.

"But—Olly. I _love_ you. There's nothing better than coming home to you after being away for months. You—you're my home. When I said I want to marry you, I meant it. I've been thinking about bringing it up for almost a year now."

Silence stood between them for an ominous long moment, before Olly quietly interrupted it with,

"I do not want to serve. Do you not understand? Being in the laboratory, working alongside smart people—that is where I want to be. I am happy there, when I am not worrying about you! I do not want to work on a colony or on a ship, or stress every single day!” Olly broke down in sobs and Samed hugged him again. “I only wish to be happy," he whispered. Samed squeezed tighter, almost like he was keeping Olly from slipping from his grasp. And failing. "And—I do not—I do not think—I do not think I will ever find that happiness with you."

Samed pressed Olly's head into the crook of his neck. Then he broke down into sobs too, both of them crying in front of a crossroads, each about to go their own separate way.


	24. Go your own way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samed in the two and a half years that follow after the breakup. Skips between "past and present", so to speak.

**January, 2180; April, 2180; July, 2182**

Samed woke up to the smell of coffee and an extra blanket over him. _He still cares._

That was stupid. Of course Olly cared, just because—just because they broke up—didn't mean—his chest tightened, his eyes swelled.

God, maybe he should call this whole thing off. Be at home, go back to the lab, have a family with Olly. See how things go for a while, and if they don't go well— 

_What, break up? Lead Olly on? He already said no to your proposal. Leave it._

He got up and headed for the bathroom. At least he could get some solid crying done in the shower.

* * *

For all that grueling training, Villa Militar sure had some nice showers. And water hot enough to boil someone alive—just how Samed liked it.

He got out and made sure to put on the new cologne he bought, vanilla-scented, with hints of cardamom and chestnuts.

_He loved that one._

Samed blinked that thought away. It'd been more than two years since they broke up. So why the memories? Why now?

* * *

Only one suitcase felt right—even if Samed had a ton of stuff to move out. He donated most of his clothes, and left some to Olly—he already wore them more than Samed did in the last three or four years.

He spent a whole two days packing. After all, living with his now ex—he swallowed the lump in his throat—wasn't a good idea.

At least they spoke, occasionally. Olly didn't do his passive aggressive thing like when they were fighting. He just looked tired, like he hadn't slept for years—and that made the hurt in Samed's chest cut even deeper.

* * *

His uniform freshly ironed and fitted, Samed stood among about a dozen or so people, people he was proud to call comrades in arms. All of them with their heads held high, fresh N7s about to embark on the best kinds of assignments.

He would occasionally, out of the corner of his eye, scan the small audience that had gathered, mostly comprised of everyone’s friends and family.

And every time he did, there would be no-one that stood there for him. Especially not a bronze-brown face he hadn't seen since he left for N-school.

* * *

"Olly."

"Yes?" He didn't even turn to face him.

"I wanna talk to you."

"I believe we said all there is to say, did we not?"

"I wanna say one more thing.” Samed took a deep breath. “I'm sorry."

Olly finally turned away from the sink, a pout on his lips and a raised brow. The dark circles under his eyes had begun to fade a bit—that was good. "I am not mad at you. Why the sorry?"

"I'm sorry because—" Samed felt his voice start to break and he swallowed. _Damn it._ "I'm sorry I put you through all that stress these past years. Drove you to taking meds just to calm yourself down."

Olly turned his gaze downwards. "Apology accepted. And. I am sorry to you as well. But I still mean what I said. We are still—"

"Broken up. I know. I'm not asking you to take me back. I've just been doing some thinking this past week and. Yeah."

"'Take you back'?" Olly turned the faucet off. "I am not angry with you, _merde!_ I am angry at—well—" Olly gestured at everything around him, "—this! This whole situation! We do not fit together, I am angry at that! I still—it is not important now."

_I still love you too._

"And it is best if we do not speak for a while, or else—" Olly sighed. "I am tired, Samedi—Samed." Samed's heart shattered again, for the thousandth time this past week. "I cannot do this anymore."

"Right. I'm sorry. I should—I should go."

* * *

"I of all people know how tough the training here can be." Anderson stood on the podium and spoke into a small mic. "Which is why I am proud of the soldiers gathered here, soldiers that have proven their exceptional strength, cunning, and resilience. I am proud to share the highest level of military proficiency with them—the N7."

He started to call people to join him on the podium one by one as he handed them their badges.

“Samed Shepard,” Anderson called out.

Shepard. A name Samed had learned to respond to, and even taken as his own.

It was a name imposed onto him, just like—just like his life was, after that slaver attack. A life of carrying one’s scars of the past, a life of military, a life of _fighting,_ where there was to be peace and family.

Perhaps it was more like a title, a title given to him just like the Star of Terra, just like the N7 designation that Anderson was about to hand to him now. Shepard, it meant a war hero, it meant an N7, it meant someone who helped, who protected.

It was a title.

“Step forward,” Anderson continued.

* * *

One last kiss. Samed wasn't sure who initiated it. It began with a look, emerald eyes meeting his, and before he knew it, lips danced with lips, then tongues brushed together, a taste of mint and cherries, that flame inside of him erupting one last time.

Foreheads touched, thumbs brushed away tears, before a trembling, “Please be careful out there,” left Olly’s lips. “I know we are not together, but.”

Samed took Olly’s hands and pressed a kiss onto them. “I will.” One last promise. He owed Olly that much.

* * *

Five years. Today would've been five years of them together.

The day began early, four in the morning, with a loud horn that Samed could never get used to, even after four months.

He got up, made his bed, got in his gear, stood at attention. Good thing training was twenty hours a day. Twenty hours he wouldn’t be stuck in his own head.

* * *

"Figured I'd find you here," Anderson's voice accompanied the ocean's waves crashing on Samed's bare feet.

Samed lurched upwards, and tried to salute, right before another wave made his left foot sink, and he toppled over.

"At ease, son," Anderson laughed. "Just wanted to check in, see how you were doing." He extended a hand which Samed took.

"I'm fine, sir." Samed brushed himself off. "I was just doing a little thinking."

"This isn't going to be like the last time you _did some thinking,_ is it?"

Samed chuckled. "No, sir. That ship has sailed, I understand that." 

Understood it the last time Anderson and him had a little chat.

* * *

"Shepard, report to my office," the Major said over the comm just before lights out, accompanied by the oohs and aahs of the entire sleeping quarters.

_Shit._

Still in his uniform, Samed walked to the room on the highest floor of the villa and knocked. "It's open," came a deep voice from inside.

Samed opened the door. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Have a seat, Shepard."

He did as he asked, while the Major stood up and began to pace left to right and back. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. A silence Samed wanted to break with a question, but he knew better than to talk to a superior officer unless spoken to.

"Not going to lie to you, son. What you did on that asteroid was impressive work, never seen anyone take that course of action before. But it was reckless. In more ways than one." _Shit._ He was going to be kicked out, that was what this was about.

 _Maybe then I'll go back to Olly,_ a not-so-small thought scurried through his mind. _Wait. What the hell are you even doing?_

"Those oxygen supply numbers could've been accurate. They could've depleted completely before you'd captured your objective. What then?"

Samed swallowed and tried to sift through the fog that were his thoughts.

_Adrenaline pumping, shallow breaths, but he's losing oxygen faster than he's usually done in no-atmo._

_Shit. He's spiraling. Of course he is, it's **that day.** He'll fail the N7s, just like he failed Olly. Like he failed his family, like he failed Mindoir. _

_His arms move on their own, he springs up his omni, pulls up his suit's biometrics. Rigs them._

Samed blinked. The Major looked at him like he was expecting some kind of answer, either a cocky one or a reasonable one. Samed had neither.

"Am I going to be kicked out for this, sir?"

"Kicked out?" The Major leaned on his desk. "Tell me something, Shepard. Did you do this just so we'd let you go?"

The Major was looking through him again, almost like he was reading him.

_Did you do this just so we'd let you go?_

Maybe? It would've been his five year anniversary with Olly, it was also his damn birthday, _that day,_ and he should've spent it with him, in the comfort of his embrace, and he would've been _his fiancé_ and—

"Yes. Sir." A blurry film coated Samed's vision.

"You're doing a crappy job then, son. You're an N1."

"Wait. What? But I was reckless, like you said. I—"

"Not saying you weren't. But that's what being an N7 is about. Despite your biometrics showing obviously skewed results—too obvious even—you were the fourth to finish your objective."

Samed sat silent, his gaze on the floor.

The Major sat behind his desk. Samed could feel his eyes on him, reading, pressing down as that uncomfortable silence filled the room again.

"I had a wife, you know." Samed's head darted upwards at the sound of the Major's voice. "We were young when we got married, even younger than you." He chuckled. "How foolish we both were, thinking we could make it work, what with me getting deployed all the time, and her constantly worried out of her mind."

_Well that sounds familiar._

"Never got to have a family, either. Never got to have kids. Never enough time for that."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Sorry? Ha! That divorce was the second best thing that's happened to me. Though, it didn't feel like that at the time. At the time, I thought—'David, there goes the love of your life. From now on, it's going to be all military, and no fun, ever.'"

Samed looked down and quietly nodded to himself.

"I was wrong, turns out. At the end, that wasn't even love. It was an uphill battle for our marriage. I was more stressed when I was on shore leave, than out there in the field. No sane person can live like that. Not for long, anyway."

Samed turned his gaze back to the Major, to an unspoken connection that had just formed between them.

"I've kept you long enough, Shepard. You have two weeks before N2 training starts. It's your call whether you accept or not. But you got potential. Don't waste it on an uphill battle."

* * *

"Yet here you are, that look in your eyes." Anderson motioned for them to walk. "Something on your mind, son?"

Sand shifted between Samed's toes. Anderson still had boots, at least. "Everyone had someone there for the ceremony, sir. Relatives, loved ones… No one there for me."

"Ah. I see how it is."

"I wasn't planning on calling him or anything like that. But."

"He's been on your mind, I know." Anderson chuckled. "I know it all too well."

The waves crashed on the pier in the distance. "I've been thinking about what you said about your ex-wife. How it wasn't love at the end. It feels weird to say, but—I think that was my case too. I proposed just to make him stay." 

There was a slight lurch in Anderson's step, and he turned with a raised brow. It was expected—this was the first time Samed had told anyone about that botched proposal. 

"He said no. He was tired, and—and I was too. Couldn't even tell him about my missions without starting another fight."

Anderson nodded in silence.

"But there was another thing you said—something about being all military after that, and no fun. Was it hard?"

"It was, at the beginning. Then I learned to like it. Hell, love it even. Met some great people now that I didn't have to spend every shore leave at home. Met someone new. Someone more my speed. Someone who understood what life as a soldier is like."

Salty wind blew on Samed's face as the orange silhouette of the gibbous moon peeked from the water.

"I know what this is about—you're just itching for some action. People usually space these courses out over several years, but you completed the whole thing all at once. Reminds me of when I was going through my own N7 training."

Samed turned to Anderson, and smiled. Talking with him almost felt like talking to Maama again. Easy and light, like he could pour out his entire soul and not get judged for any of it.

Anderson tapped him on the back. "Don't worry, son. You'll be busy soon. I'm assembling a team for the Tokyo, and I want you as my XO—Staff Lieutenant."

"When did I receive a promotion?"

"Just now. And I expect results."

"Won't let you down, sir." Samed finally saluted without toppling over.


	25. Mass effect

**July, 2182–January, 2183**

Anderson wasn't kidding. The next six months were mission after mission, with only a day or two free for a supply run in between each one.

And it was exhilarating. 

Samed wasn't spending his days off fighting an uphill battle, but just—relaxing. Sometimes guilt would even wash over him at the thought of how much he enjoyed himself out there.

But that guilt didn't have time to settle down.

Before he knew it, he'd be back on the Tokyo, another mission, more of the galaxy to explore. 

He'd met some of the other Council races before, but now they were a frequent sight: whether it'd be salarian scientists in need of a pickup, or asari commandos covering them in battle, or the random turian cruiser they'd encounter at fuel stops; the galaxy felt like a bigger place than it was before.

There were also the people on the Tokyo. 

Lead engineer Greg Adams was both an excellent mentor and great company, and so was his entire engineering team, which Samed buddied up with pretty quickly.

Navigator Pressley would always huff whenever they'd share a mission with non-humans, which was a sign to not talk to him that day; unless the poor soul who would approach him wanted an hours long xenophobic discourse on their hands which usually ended with Anderson breaking it up.

Of course, there was Anderson, his CO—the best CO anyone could ask for. He'd accompany Samed on the occasional mission or two, but drops were mostly Samed's to handle, with a squad of two of his fellow N7s. At first one of those spots was filled by First Lieutenant Lee Riley—a field engineer like him—before brass decided her Master's Degree in Engineering and her Minor in Diplomatic Relations were better suited in a joint turian-asari fuel reactor plant. 

Anderson wasn't kidding about the missions being better, either.

The drops Samed did now were a lot more covert and dangerous than the occasional smuggler or slaver run. 

But if there was one good thing that came from those arguments Samed used to have with _him,_ it was the habit that he picked up: being extra careful during combat, or in some cases, its lack of.

Sneaking about on Quana instead of fighting through slavers saved both his, his squad's, and about a dozen or so civilians' asses. Staying in cover for the whole duration of the fight on Alsages only slightly charred the top of his helmet plus the hair of the scientists he was picking up instead of leaving them as burnt corpses.

Around the beginning of the new year, Anderson gave him one of the standard long leaves—about two weeks—as he had some important thing to take care of, he'd said. Something about a brand new ship, but the way Anderson had said it—it was like something revved the engine inside of Samed's heart. Something big was on the horizon.

And those two weeks were perfect for meeting up with some people he hadn't visited in a long while.

* * *

"Gotta say, kid." Amir took a swig from the hookah and exhaled a minty smoke. "Mindoir's a pretty neat place."

"Yeah." The warm breeze brushed Samed's face as he and Amir sat at _Mustafa's,_ the local cafe on top of the small hill just out of New Spring. "Sure is." Even if it was run by Mustafa's daughter now. _At least someone got to continue their dad's work._

"Reminds me of this place I used to waste my youth in, _Birtija._ Literally means 'dive bar'." Amir laughed before breaking into a sigh. "Ah, Sarajevo. I miss your streets, your bazaars where everyone knows everyone, and your weird sense of humor."

Samed took another sip from his coffee. It tasted exactly the same as Mustafa used to make it, God rest his soul. A smile wound its way on his lips. “My mom used to tell me a lot about the bazaars in Gaza. I've only seen them through her paintings."

"Oh hey! The missus and I passed by there last Rosh Hashanah. That where she's from?"

Samed nodded.

"What about your old man?"

"He's from—he _was_ , um, a bit more north, as he used to tell me. A village named...Abu Qash, I think. He and my mom met during her studies in Birzeit."

"So how did they end up here?"

“Well, my mom travelled a lot, even before moving here. It was often either for work or just curiosity, or inspiration for her art. You might have heard of her, Hadia Ghazzawi?”

Amir grimaced and shook his head no. “Do I look like an art _connoisseur_ to you kid?” He said the _connoisseur_ part with an exaggerated French accent, which made Samed break into laughter.

“So, yeah. When she’d heard the offer of actually living in space—she couldn’t stop thinking about it.” Samed chuckled. “My dad used to tell me he was worried he was gonna lose her, especially since they'd just gotten engaged. But then my uncle came up with a plan to continue the family business on another planet.”

“Oh? Your folks have a family business?”

“Um, sort of. My great grandfather had an auto-repair shop. Then my grandma took over, and then my dad worked with her. I was supposed to be a mechanic too, like him. But—yeah. God had different plans, I guess.”

"Your folks lived a good life." Amir's voice turned solemn for perhaps the first time Samed had known him.

A moment of silence passed, with the only sound being that of the screeching of Mindoir's gulls that flew over the two lakes in the distance.

Amir was the first one to break that silence with his trademark: “Kid—" he exhaled smoke through his nose, "—now, you don’t have to answer this if it’s a touchy subject. But have you thought about looking up some family you probably, no, definitely still have? I could talk to the wife, see if her folks might know someone.”

"I don't know." Samed thinned his lips. “I've been thinking about that on and off. I didn’t have enough money to do it at first, and now—now I’m in the military. The last two years have been pretty busy.” He rolled the half-full cup of coffee in his hands. “Maybe once things settle down a little bit.”

“Well.” Amir reached out an arm from across the table and tapped him twice on the shoulder. “Being an N7 and all, you’re looking at a nice retirement plan. And gotta say,” he whistled. “N-fucking-7? Knew you had potential, son. Proud of you.”

"Heh. Thanks. This was all your coaching, Sens—um. Sir."

"Sir?" Amir clicked his tongue. "I'll let that one slide, all that military jargon got to your brain. But if you call me sir again, son, I swear."

Samed laughed. "I won't—" His lips curved into a smirk. "—Amir, sir."

Amir let out a long, arduous smoke-filled sigh which Samed had to wave off before he started coughing from it. "Still the same kid. Even after, what. How old are you now?"

"I'll be twenty-nine in April."

"Well hot damn. I've known you for, what. Ten years? I'd better get an invite to your wedding or something, kid. That reminds me. You and what's his face, you two doing okay? Planning on tying the knot any time soon?"

Samed's eyes went wide and he almost choked on his coffee. _Shit._ "Uhhhhh, that's." He clenched his teeth. Amir didn't know about that particular thing. "That's a long story."

"Oh. Shit. That why you didn't wanna meet me in Toulouse?"

"Well—there's also another reason. I usually go here every year, but I haven't visited in a while."

"How long?"

* * *

Three years since Mindoir’s sun warmed his face, since the smell of fresh summer rain had filled his nostrils. It was mid-morning when he sat down, backpack to his side, in front of their graves. “I know I should’ve visited sooner, but—” _Isam Nasr Ghannam. Hadia Ghazzawi._ Still the same names. “Baaba. Maama. Hey.”

Samed exhaled a chuckle as the breeze showed to greet him back, even after three whole years.

“God, where do I start? A lot of things have happened.” He scratched the back of his neck. “For one, me and, um, Olly aren’t together anymore. We haven’t been together in a long time, actually.”

The breeze brushed his cheeks, cheeks that used to be wet with tears every single night. But they haven't been for quite some time.

“I’m fine, now. _'We created you in pairs'_. I guess he wasn’t my pair. And I hope he's doing well.”

Samed inhaled, his chest filling with ease and clarity. There was still that whirr, still that feeling that something big that was about to happen, but—he exhaled a soft and calm breath.

He spent the next hour or so talking about his military career, about getting the N7 designation; even mentioned the botched proposal, as awkward as that had been.

He left them with a smile on his face and warmth in his chest, and continued onto New Spring proper, the solar-panel roofs slowly coming into view on the horizon, accompanied by the sound of tractors plowing the fields nearby, as well as the very familiar smell of cinnamon and oranges—Orna was making one of her famous pies.

He had a lot of time to make up for in the two weeks that would follow. And a lot of food to eat too, judging from the rumble in his stomach.

* * *

The Tokyo docked at the Vancouver International and Interplanetary Station, and Samed watched the cloudy cityscape with a quiet sadness in his chest and bitter smile on his face, Mindoir and the people there still on his mind.

_“If you stop calling like that for another three years, I’m gonna kick your behind, find some way to raise you from the dead, and then kick your behind again, boy!”_

_“Don’t worry, Auntie Orna, I’ll come visit as soon as I’m able.” Samed chuckles and kisses her on both of her wrinkled cheeks._

_"You better! Ah, Samed.” She shakes her head. “Samed, Samed, Samed. Be careful out there, boy. You make Hadia and Isam proud, I’m sure of it.”_

He'd forgotten how weird it felt to return after a longer leave. It was usually emptying, whenever he'd come back after staying with _him,_ but now? 

That was perhaps the first break in a long time that he was actually relaxed afterwards. Renewed. Ready to face any new challenges that came his way.

And there were definitely some to be had.

A ship stood parked outside, its curves like nothing Samed had ever seen before. It made that whirr in his chest amplify, like a supercharged engine ready to hit the streets at top speed.

SSV Normandy, the name.

Samed, now a Lieutenant Commander, looked up at Anderson's tall form as he stood proudly over a large holographic map of the galaxy.

“I’ve assembled the best of the best for this ship,” Anderson spoke to the large crew that had finally assembled over the last few days. “For our ship.” A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, but he kept the serious, commanding officer facade. “Standing here, I can see the eagerness in each and every one of you. Eagerness to set sail into the endless black ocean that is space. And I look forward to serving with you on this journey.”

Applause filled the CIC, just as the artificial gravity began to tug ever so slightly downwards, followed by the smell of eezo and the engine's subtle hum. The Normandy's first official liftoff. The start of something new and exciting.

Anderson came down from the small podium, and with a grin on his face and a bounce in his step, Samed joined him as they walked down to the second deck.

“What are your orders, sir?” Samed asked.

“Shepard,” Anderson turned to him, his serious commanding officer facade gone and replaced with his usual friendly smile, “Let’s see what we can find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 7 long months, 25 chapters, more than 30k words, and even an ongoing global pandemic, this fic has finally reached its end. It's kind of unbelievable, to be honest. What began as just an extended drabble went on to be just the first chapter of a whirlwind of a journey both Samed and Olly went through, and it was a whirlwind of a journey to write as well. 
> 
> I want to give the warmest thanks to the people in the Writer's Workshop for supporting me through this as I both wrote and posted it, as well as everyone who took the time to read this, leave kudos, and comment.
> 
> Samed's story is, of course, not finished, and continues into the games, as you can see by the [A Real Hero](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429021) series this fic is placed in. As for Olly, stay tuned for his series: [Restless, breathless, fearless](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875217)! It should be comprised of one-shots about his life during the Mass Effect trilogy and beyond.


End file.
